


A Rose for My Love

by ElderberryWine



Series: Shire Morns [10]
Category: Lord of the Rings - Fandom
Genre: Multi, Part of the Shire Morns series.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-10
Updated: 2010-03-14
Packaged: 2017-10-07 21:14:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 42,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/69312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElderberryWine/pseuds/ElderberryWine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yuletide at the Great Smials, and anything can happen.  Part of the <i>Shire Morns</i> series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The message arrived from Tuckborough only three weeks before Yuletide. It was a miserably cold and wet morning, and the unexpected knock on the door was a surprise to both Sam and Frodo as they sipped their second breakfast tea in the cozy Bag End kitchen. Frodo was loathe to leave the warmth of the kitchen, but he hurried down the halls, and quickly opened the door to find an extremely soaked and red-nosed young hobbit standing deferentially on the front doorstep.

"Hello," he greeted him kindly. "Come on in out of this wet, lad, before you do anything else."

"Well, if it ain't Toby!" came Sam's surprised voice from right behind him. "Old Tom Bellows, as keeps the Green Dragon," he added parenthetically to a bemused Frodo, "This'd be his youngest," he added, nodding towards the scrawny tween, who was occupied in simultaneously shivering, bowing deferentially to both Frodo and Sam, and trying to unobtrusively survey the wonders of the fabled smial.

"Ah, that's it," Frodo smiled in recognition. "Thought I'd seen you before, lad."

"Brought a message, sir," the young hobbit ventured timidly. "Me dad told me as to be bringin' it right on by, please, sirs," he added with another deferential nod.

Sam's eyes opened a little wider at the novelty of being included in that plural, but Frodo laughed, and quickly took the startled visitor's cloak from him. "How kind of your father to be sending you out in a morning like this," he replied with a smile, "and surely he won't expect me to be sending you back until you've had a chance to dry out a bit. Weren't you just putting on another pot of tea, Sam?"

"Aye, that I was," Sam grinned, and hurried ahead back to the kitchen to do just that. The young hobbit followed Frodo, who was still carrying his dripping cloak, down the hall, with both his eyes and mouth open wide in awe.

And, as he told his enthralled audience at the Green Dragon later that day, "A'fore I knew it, I'us sittin' at the table w'the Master o'Bag End, and Sam Gamgee, a'sippin' tea and a'eatin' a scone, just as if I'd be a'callin' on them any time I choose."

"Now then," Frodo said comfortably, after he had carefully hung the noticeably patched cloak up on a hook near the kitchen hearth, and had regained his chair next to Sam, "I believe you'd mentioned a message?"

"Oh, aye," Toby gulped down a full half scone as he reached inside his jacket and drew out a small parcel wrapped in oilpaper. "Me dad 'ad it covered up tight-like, so as not t'be gettin' it wet. Came up on a wagon from Tuckborough, it did, yesti'day night. He said as t'tell you he'us that sorry he couldn't get it out to you last night, but there'us a crowd around the place, and he'd be needin' me."

"Oh, I hardly think it's urgent," Frodo said kindly, placing it on the table.

"Well, I'd best be off," the young hobbit stood up, bowing again. "Me dad needs me back, an' me mam still has work for me t'be doin'."

"Here, Toby, take the rest of these, and keep 'em well tucked under your jacket now," Sam, who had been sitting quietly next to Frodo, said, as he wrapped the rest of the scones up in a dry dishcloth and handed them to Toby.

"And tell your father that we'll be sure to be by for a mug, as soon as this shows any signs of letting up," Frodo added, as he wrapped the still wet cloak around the tween.

With a last nod, and bow, warm scones securely tucked under his jacket, and a wealth of information with which to regale his companions, Toby darted from the kitchen door down to Bagshot Row, and was soon lost in the thick foggy drizzle.

Sam stirred his tea, watching Frodo with curiosity as he unwrapped the thick coated paper. Two envelopes fell out of the parcel, the first a rather large one, with what Frodo immediately recognized as Pippin's large scrawl on the front of it, addressed without ceremony to Frodo and Sam. But there was another smaller envelope, in a smaller and much neater handwriting, with a request on it to be forwarded to Miss Daisy Gamgee, Number Three, Bagshot Row.

Frodo picked up the smaller envelope first and stared at it inquisitively. It was not the first such envelope that had arrived at Bag End. Indeed, there had been a number of such messages received during the summer, but the last one prior to this had been delivered about the time of the Harvest Festival. He handed it without comment to Sam, who put it down with a small sigh, and turned his attention to the other.

It was an invitation to both Frodo and Sam to spend the Yuletide this year in Tuckborough. The body of the message was penned in the careful hand of Eglantine Took, but the more exuberant scrawl of Pippin was under it. "Merry's coming too!" it announced enthusiastically. "Please come!" But there was another sentence written directly underneath that puzzled Frodo. "Bring along as many as you like, there's plenty of room."

"Now what would that be about?" he asked, looking up at Sam, mystified. "Both of our names are on the envelope, so it isn't you he's talking about." But then, both of their glances fell on the other envelope.

"Mayhap I need to be askin' Daisy," Sam responded, quietly.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

It had been about three weeks after their return, earlier that summer, from Brandy Hall, where Frodo and Sam had gone on their mission to return the errant wandering young Took that the first such envelope had arrived. Both Sam and Frodo had been greatly puzzled by it, but when Sam had stopped by the Row to deliver it to Daisy, she had snatched it out of his hands, nearly trembling, and turned such a bright pink and then pale by turns, that Sam did not dare to ask anymore. He mentioned to Frodo that Daisy had seemed rather excited about the letter. For the next few days, he had waited for Daisy to mention it, but she didn't, and as the week went by, he forgot the incident.

Until the next letter arrived. It was a couple of weeks after the first, and was addressed in the same manner. Daisy grabbed this one up in the same agitated way, but then threw a quick forlorn glance at Sam. She said nothing more, but after carefully tucking it in a pocket behind her apron, returned to her task of sweeping out the kitchen.

But late that afternoon, as Sam was clearing off the tea things, and Frodo had retreated back to the study, there was a gentle rap at the kitchen door. Sam opened it to find a distinctly flustered Daisy. He greeted her warmly, and immediately made a new pot of tea for her over all her protests. Then he sat himself at the kitchen table, across from her, and, giving her a level look, quietly said, "Tell me about it, Daisy."

Daisy slowly brought her eyes up from her tea cup, and looked into her brother's patient eyes, which were not a little concerned, and so very like their mother's. "I need t'learn my letters, Sam," she murmured. "Will ye no teach me?"

Sam stared at her in surprise. Truth be told, he had forgotten that he was the only one of the Gamgees who knew his letters. But then the question of the mysterious letters came back to him, and he suddenly realized Daisy's motivation. "Would y'like me t'be readin' aught for ye, Daisy?" he asked hesitantly. "I'd not mind."

"No!" Daisy blurted out, and then immediately turned very rosy indeed. "No need, Sam," she added diffidently. "I'd just like t'be learnin' them, that's all. I'd be learnin' more herb lore, I'd be thinkin', if I could be readin' what as is in books."

"Oh, aye, that'd be true enough," Sam agreed quietly, not pursuing such a sensitive topic any further. "Of course, Daisy, it's pleased I'd be t'help you out."

So it was, that summer, that early evenings found Daisy with Sam in the kitchen, after supper, working her way through the same letter books that Sam had used with Mr. Bilbo, years ago, when the former Master of Bag End had taught Sam his letters. At first, Frodo did not sit with them, for Daisy would quickly get flustered, and make mistake after mistake. But gradually, as the weeks went on, Frodo stayed a little longer and a little longer, until by the end of summer, it was quite a snug threesome to be found about the kitchen table of an evening.

As summer wore on though, the letters came less and less often, and Sam never knew of an answer returning for any of them. And after the letters ceased coming, Daisy's lessons seemed to be ended as well.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

The night was fearsome cold, this close to the end of the year, and the fire in their bedroom just barely took the chill off. Both hobbits had taken to wearing their nightshirts, for it was warm enough under the covers, but the odd arm that was accidentally stuck out during the night was quickly chilled without some sort of covering. Frodo warmed his cold knees against Sam's back as he snuggled next to him, earning a muffled squawk from Sam.

"Ah, me dear, you need proper warming, true enough," Sam sighed in mock protest, turning around to face him.

Frodo smiled expectantly at that, pushing up closer to Sam. "I hope so," he murmured, thrusting his chilled hands under Sam's warm backside.

"Bless me, Frodo," Sam gasped, with a slight flinch, "but how'd those hands of yours be gettin' that frozen?"

"I don't have your warm blood, my dearest," Frodo gave a throaty chuckle. "But you, now, you, Sam …," leaning forward, he met Sam's mouth with his own.

Sam gave a wordless hum at that, and rolled Frodo around in his arms until he came to rest on top of him. "Aye, you want proper care, you do," he gave a low, husky laugh. "An' what'd you be doin' wi'out me, that's what'd I like t'know."

"Be all alone, in this bed," Frodo answered to that, somewhat breathlessly, staring up at Sam's face above him in the dying light of the bedroom fire. "Be cold, with no-one to warm me." Unconsciously, his grip around Sam tightened. "Be lonely, and wanting you so much that I could dream of nothing else."

Sam bent his head to Frodo's again and found his mouth, for there was really nothing he could say to that which could have made any sense at all. "Ahhmm," was Frodo's satisfied purr to that response, and he drew his knees up around Sam only to be stopped suddenly short.

Sam correctly interpreted Frodo's grunt of annoyance with a quick laugh. "Aye, entirely too much cloth between us, I'd be thinkin'," and he lifted himself off of Frodo slightly in order to hike up that which lay between. Instantly, Frodo's knees rose again, and this time Frodo's legs were quickly wrapped tightly around Sam's back.

"Ah," Sam gave his immediate approval, and adjusted his position just a trifle.

"Oh, yes," sighed Frodo, in agreement, and rocked slightly under Sam.

"Mmmmhpf," Sam was in absolute concord as he found Frodo's mouth again, having no intent whatsoever this time of parting from it until absolutely necessary.

Frodo gave a sigh that might have been interpreted as Sam's name, if his tongue had not been quite so busy, and one hand was flung out from the blankets toward the side of the bed, in order to improve his leverage.

One of Sam's arms was quite wound about Frodo's neck at this point, but the other was firmly planted on the bed next to Frodo's face, to allow just the optimum amount of elevation.

Somehow they were managing to bury themselves deeper under the bedclothes, as they rocked intently against each other, but there really was no time to adjust that, for the thought of withdrawing from each other's touch had passed the threshold of possibility several moments ago, and now it didn't matter in the least if they ended up thoroughly buried under blankets, or barely clutching to the side of the bed, or, indeed, off of it altogether and in a heap on the floor, for the all-consuming pleasure of their joining was now beyond rational thought.

At last, it was Sam, this time, who could no longer hold himself from the edge, and shoved himself one last time into Frodo's expert touch. Frodo gave a pleased grunt at that before he, too, arched his back up, and tightened his legs around Sam even more, and threw his head back, gasped, and stiffened.

They both lay in a tangle afterwards of sticky limbs, and damp nightshirts, and the most delectable lassitude. "Frodo, me dear," Sam was finally heard to murmur, from under a well curled and by now quite warm hobbit, "these shirts really should be goin' on afterwards. Now we'd need to be changin' them all over again."

"Don't you think of moving, Sam, love," Frodo chuckled sleepily. "Plenty of time in the morning to be doing that."

Sam found that Frodo's logic was reasonable enough, at that, and the cold rain outside was heard no more by the two hobbits, as they fell into a very satisfied slumber.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

The next morning, preparations were begun for the trip to Tuckborough. Although it was still three weeks to Yuletide, snow had been predicted within the week, and the first snowstorm of the season usually stopped all travel for several days. Fortunately, this time of the year, there was not much to consider as to the care of the gardens of Bag End, so it was really only a matter of leaving a message as to their whereabouts. Sam headed down Bagshot Row midday, to deliver that information.

Daisy was in the kitchen, rolling out pastry dough, when Sam arrived, shaking the drizzle from his hair as he entered the smial. May was also home for the Yuletide season, and was occupied, as she sat by the kitchen fire, in adding a new strip of lace to the bodice of her green dress. The sisters both greeted Sam with a smile, but when they heard Sam's news, Daisy's face suddenly grew pale, and she bent over her flour-dusted hands without a word.

"Would I," she began hesitantly, and then looked up bravely at Sam, "would I be able t'come w'you and Mr. Frodo, Sam?"

Sam looked at her in amazement, but then he suddenly remembered the second envelope. "Why'd ye be askin' that, Daisy?" he asked gently, watching her carefully.

Daisy's face colored violently at that, and her gaze returned to the pastry. "I've been asked," she murmured, almost inaudibly.

May was watching this exchange with fascination, her dress and needle forgotten in her lap, but she remained silent.

"But, Daisy," Sam began, uncertainly, "You canna be goin' w'Mr. Frodo and myself. T'would not be seemly…"

"I could go too," came May's sudden and unexpected offer. Both of the others turned quickly to face their sister, who had been forgotten up until now. "I could go along with Daisy," she repeated in a firm voice. "There'd be naught unseemly about that, Sam. If the lass has an invitation, then she has the right to go."

Sam could see at once that Daisy's surprise over May's unexpected support was as great as his own, but she said nothing, merely nodded, and turned back to Sam.

"But Da…" Sam began weakly, using his final argument.

"Can stay with Marigold," May added firmly. "I'm sure she would love to have him about. Naught to worrit about there, Sam."

Sam definitely had his private doubts on that score, but bowed his head to his two sisters. "I'll ask Mr. Frodo," he temporized hastily, and quickly made his exit.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

Frodo found the proposed travel arrangements highly intriguing, to Sam's secret dismay. "So that was an invitation for Yuletide?" he asked Sam curiously, turning around at his desk, and stretching out his toes before the study fire. "Who does your sister know at the Great Smials?"

Sam stood before the fire, holding out his hands to warm them, for the day had come up misty wet, and bone-chillingly cold. "I wouldna have thought a soul," he answered with a frown, "but it must be Pearl Took herself. Although why she'd be invitin' the likes o'Daisy, is anyone's guess."

"Oh, yes, that's right. Hadn't Marigold mentioned that Daisy and Pearl had got on surprisingly well when she was staying here, while we were gone?" Frodo asked calmly. "Then it must have been Pearl who was sending her the letters earlier this summer. Why would it be so odd, then, to ask her to Yule?"

Sam gave a sigh at that, and gave a short worried shake of his head. "She'd be gentry, Frodo," he tried to explain, giving him a quick glance.

"As am I," Frodo mentioned mildly. "And?"

Sam couldn't help give a chuckle at that. Crossing over to stand behind Frodo, he wrapped his arms around him and, leaning down, lightly nuzzled Frodo's dark curls. "Ah, but you'd be special, you would," he whispered into them.

Frodo gave a laugh at that, and reaching up and throwing his head back, met Sam's mouth with his own. "I remember Pearl Took as being rather unique, herself," he responded gently, as he drew his mouth finally away from Sam's. "Let's bring the lasses along, Sam. They'll enjoy a bit of a holiday, I'm sure."

"Oh, aye, me dear," Sam agreed, unbuttoning Frodo's collar with ease and running his hands firmly down Frodo's chest. "Whatever you'd wish, Frodo-love."

"Well, in that case," and he gave Sam's arms an insistent tug, "you're much too far away. Come down here, and I'll show you exactly what I wish."

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

Frodo lay on the hearthrug afterward, head propped up on a pillow, with Sam lying beside him, his arms around Frodo and his head on Frodo's chest. Contently, Sam listened, eyes closed, to the crackle of the fire, the soft dripping of the rain that had now begun to fall from the eaves, and the steady beat of Frodo's heart. It was in moments such as this one, that it suddenly struck him how extraordinarily lucky he was, and how there was nothing at all he could ever wish for, other than what he already had. He held Frodo just a little closer, at that, eyes still closed, and felt a slight hum of happiness from Frodo in response. A gentle hand rose, to briefly stroke the side of his cheek, before returning to its clasp around his bare shoulder.

"Why'd you always be sayin', Frodo," Sam said dreamily, as he suddenly remembered the night before, and what Frodo had said then, "that you'd be all alone wi'out me?" Rolling to his back, but still resting on Frodo, he looked up into Frodo's face.

Frodo's dark hair hung around his face, as he gazed down at Sam with a slight smile, and the firelight lit the ivory planes of his face with gold. "Because I would be," he answered simply.

"But you could be havin' anyone you wanted, Frodo-love," Sam continued softly, still watching Frodo's expression. "Be it lass or lad, none would ever say you nay."

Frodo's smile broadened a bit at that. "You may be just a bit biased, my dearest Sam," he responded fondly. "I never did look to the lasses, as I told you, and I always felt that Bilbo's gold was my biggest attraction in their eyes. It definitely was, in their mothers' opinions. And as for a lad, well, that was not that easy either."

"Why not, Frodo?" Sam questioned quietly.

Frodo gave a small sigh at that, and lightly brushed the curls back from Sam's forehead. "More a matter of the wanting than the getting," he answered, after a few moments. "I'm not terribly trusting, Sam. My past experiences before coming to Bag End didn't particularly lend themselves to making me so. And I had found myself very reluctant to let anyone that close to me. Only you could have broken past that, Sam."

"Why me?" Sam whispered, watching Frodo in fascination.

Frodo leaned down at that, and lightly kissed Sam's forehead. "Because you can make me laugh in bed," he said softly. "No-one else has ever done that. I'm always home when I'm with you."

Dinner was very late that night.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

That same afternoon, at the Gamgee smial, May was looking for answers, and felt that she was due some. "Well, now, Daisy dear," she said quietly, after Sam had left. "Seems there's summat as you ought t'be tellin' me."

Daisy kept her eyes on her hands as she deftly rolled out the pastry and laid it in the dish, but she couldn't help the fact that the color was beginning to rise in her face again.

"This'd be Pearl Took inviting you, I'd imagine," May continued on, relentlessly, standing up and walking over to the kitchen table where Daisy stood. Without being asked, she picked up a pared potato and began to slice it into the dish.

Daisy merely nodded at that, and grabbing an onion, cut it up with rather surprising vigor, and added it to the potato.

"The eldest of the Took lasses, Daisy," continued May with a smile, still watching her sister, as she started to slice the second potato in as well. "And they the eldest family in all of the Shire, not to say mayhap one of the richest. An unlikely friend for one of us Gamgee lasses t'be havin', I'd be thinkin'."

" 'Tis unlikely, truth enough," Daisy said softly, still not looking at May. Carefully, she poured in the bit of gravy left from last night's meat, and then laid the top crust on, skillfully twisting the crusts together around the edge. But as the pie went in the oven, Daisy finally looked up at her sister. "We got on well, I'd not deny it. But I need t'see her again."

"Why, Daisy?" May asked gently, starting to clean the flour and pastry scraps from the table.

"Because I don't know. I don't really know," Daisy answered simply, turning from her sister to stare out of the round open window, into the dark foggy gloom. "I need to be fetchin' Da from the Cottons. I'd best be lettin' him know."

May said no more, but watched her sister leave, and privately resolved to learn more before they arrived at the Great Smials.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

The foursome set out the next morning, a breathlessly chilly one. Their breath formed white clouds about them as they walked, when it wasn't swept away by the occasional icy gust. The two lasses strode ahead, arm and arm, in easy conversation. Frodo and Sam fell slightly back, walking quietly together, and it wasn't long before they were unobtrusively hand in hand.

Frodo had planned on renting a wagon, upon reaching Hobbiton, but to his dismay, there were none to be had, once they reached town. The cold weather and the upcoming holiday had taken up all that were available. Sam was almost relieved to think that they might have to turn back, but when he saw the disappointment on Frodo's face, he thought better of it. "It'd still be early enough," he said quietly, laying a hand on Frodo's arm as they left the last of the Hobbiton stables. "If we'd step out smartly, we should be makin' the Laughing Cow 'ere dark."

"But your sisters?" Frodo asked, glancing with concern at the two lasses patiently waiting in front of the Green Dragon.

"Don't you ever think of tellin' them that you'd be turnin' back on their account," Sam advised him with a slight smile. "They'd be country lasses, they would, and not be mindin' a bit of a good walk."

Frodo gave a chuckle at that. "Well, if you think it'd be best…"

"Aye, that I do," Sam confided with a grin. "I'd not want t'be the one t'stand between May and the Great Smials."

But the afternoon's walk did prove long and wearisome, and the road seemed much longer than Frodo ever remembered it being. In addition, by late afternoon, the air had turned white and dense, difficult to breathe, and flurries of wet snow were starting to blow by their faces. There was no-one else about, on the road south from Bywater, and all were quite glad to see the inn appear in the late afternoon. Indeed, Sam privately felt they were quite fortunate to have reached shelter in time. Unfortunately, they were not the only travelers who had found shelter there.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

The Laughing Cow was far more crowded than Frodo had ever seen it before. Their entrance went undetected for several moments, in the general crowd that was seated at the tables and leaning against the walls, until the innkeeper, shoving his way genially through with a tray of empty mugs held high over his head, happened to notice them. "Ah, good sirs, and ladies," he cried out, handing off the tray to a plump female hobbit behind the bar, and wiping off his wet hands on the well-used apron about his waist, "I'll be w'you as soon as may be."

Frodo gave a cheerful nod, and stood near the door with the three Gamgees until the innkeeper could squeeze his way over to them.

"Bless me! If it ain't Mr. Baggins, Mr. Frodo Baggins," he exclaimed cheerily, upon getting a better look at the travelers. "On your way out to see your cousins, no doubt?" he smiled, with the born innkeeper's infallible memory for names and connections. " 'Tis been a while, 'tis been a while, indeed." He bowed to Frodo heartily, and held out his hand to take his wet cloak. "Nasty bit of weather, now, isn't it," he added merrily, and then he glanced curiously at Frodo's companions.

"My gardener, Samwise Gamgee," Frodo indicated politely at that, "and his sisters."

"Lovely to have you all, yes, lovely, indeed," the cheerful short hobbit added, starting to look a bit distracted, giving the Gamgee sisters a curious glance. ""My good hobbits, we are but a small place here, and what with the bad weather and all, I'm not sure, well, of course I have a room for you, Mr. Baggins, but…"

"Not to worry, Mr. Bottleby," Frodo hastened to interrupt, while the innkeeper brightened at the mention of his name. "For now, I think a warm meal and a mug of your finest would be at the top of our minds. We can sort the rest of it out later."

And so it was that the four travelers from Hobbiton found themselves squeezed together at a back table, happily enjoying a fine steak and kidney pie and roasted taters. Other travelers about them took notice immediately of the addition to the general company, and both Frodo and Sam soon found themselves being genially pumped for news of Hobbiton. Daisy and May kept quiet, but several other travelers gave an amiable nod in their direction.

Finally, though, as the evening wore on, the proprietor of the Laughing Cow returned, with a rather anxious expression. Bowing to Frodo, he murmured, "A word with you, Mr Baggins, if you please?"

Frodo stood up willingly enough, and followed Mr. Bottleby to a quiet corner table in the back where a well-dressed older hobbit with a peeved expression, sat. "Mr. Baggins, Mr. Bracegirdle," the innkeeper bowed, introducing the two gentle hobbits to each other. "I'm that sorry, sirs, but this'd be a smallish inn, and I've but two rooms, that'd be worthy o'the likes o'hobbits such as yourselves. So those as'd have come with you, they'd be welcome enough t'the common room, but I'm afraid it'll be a mite crowded tonight." He turned to Frodo, then, with another bow. "The lasses, now, they'd be more than welcome t'the kitchen, as me girls'd be puttin' up for the night there, seein' as they'd be no goin' home for any body this night."

"Thank you very much, Mr. Bottleby," Frodo responded amiably, "I couldn't ask for better. And, as a matter of fact, my companions are more than welcome to share the room with me for the night. That will ease the strain a bit, I should expect."

"Well, I'll not be sharing with anyone else, be they mine or not," growled the older hobbit. "Most likely a cramped ill-favored room, at best." He gave a suspicious squint at Frodo again. "Baggins, is it? No relation to that old crackpot that used to live up near the Water, now, are you?"

"He was my cousin," Frodo answered evenly, "and that he was not. I won't be taking any more of your time, then." Turning briskly away, he returned to the table where the Gamgees awaited him.

"Well, we do have a room for the night," he announced, "but I'm afraid we'll have to share it." Sam gave him a quick glance. Something had put the color in Frodo's cheeks, but he was giving no indication of what it might have been.

Daisy and May had started to politely decline, but Frodo quietly added, "They really need all the room that can be spared for the rest of the folk here," and then, of course, there was no further protest.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

May awoke in the frosty silence of the early morning. She was quite comfortable, actually, warmly curled against the sleeping form of her sister in the rather narrow bed, and lay quietly, savoring a mattress that was distinctly more comfortable than the one she and Daisy shared at Number Three. It wasn't until she realized that the faint sound she was hearing was the familiar quiet snore of her brother that she was suddenly swept with curiosity, and raised herself up cautiously, to peek over Daisy without awakening her.

There had been no question, the night before, as to giving the two lasses the bed. Frodo had laughed off any other solution, insisting that he had been on too many walking trips to be bothered by sleeping on the floor, and as long as the snow stayed out, and he stayed dry, he was well content. So Daisy and May had the bed, and most of the blankets, and Frodo had settled down in front of the small hearth, with the rug under him, a blanket over him, and Sam at his side. Sleep had come quickly for all four of them despite the unusual circumstances.

None of the four had shed any more than a jacket, what with the cold night and close quarters, and Frodo and Sam had begun the night chastely enough, lying close together for warmth under the blanket, but side-by-side, with only their hands twined together. But by morning, habit had had its way, and they had turned to each other in sleep, and May saw that they were, quite clearly, wrapped tightly around each other under the blanket. Frodo's head had come to rest in the crook of Sam's neck, and even their curls were, dark against light, woven together. May studied the two of them in silence, until her brother sighed, and stretched an arm out, eyes fluttering open. Quickly diving back behind Daisy, she successfully feigned sleep, until the rest were stirring, and it was time to look for first breakfast.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

As the four left the room, a raised voice could be heard in the other guest room, next to theirs, and a harried-looking hobbit quickly exited, rapidly closing the door behind him, and nearly knocking Frodo over as he did so.

"Oh, many pardons, sir, I was not watching where I went," he exclaimed, bowing hurriedly, his face instantly fearful.

"My fault entirely," Frodo responded immediately, reaching out a hand to steady the flustered hobbit. "My thoughts must have been on breakfast rather than where I was going."

The other hobbit stopped short at that, and gave a rapid discerning glance at Frodo, and the party standing silently, though amiably, behind him. With another quick bow, he muttered another apology, and scurried on ahead to the kitchen before them.

"Not much of an employer, I'm afraid," Frodo cast a look of scorn toward the closed door, behind which growled imprecations could still be heard, as he remembered his exchange with Mr. Bracegirdle from the night before. "Probably didn't think much of the way his bread was toasted, or some other trivial matter. No call for treating the other fellow like that." Sam cast a curious glance his way as he walked alongside of him down the narrow passageway, for it was quite unusual for Frodo to actually express a negative opinion of someone he scarcely knew. He normally saved that sort of thing for Lobelia and her brood. But there was no time to go into the matter, for the kitchen, when they reached it, appeared to be in turmoil.

Orders were being shouted into the kitchen by both the innkeeper, and a lad who, except for being as bony as the innkeeper was plump, was a dead image of him. The female whom Frodo had noticed behind the bar the evening before, apparently the mistress of the establishment, was busily directing three agitated lasses in breakfast preparations, and occasionally reaching out and flipping the contents of a pan herself.

And once the four travelers saw the common room, the reason was clear enough. Apparently, other passers-by had managed to find their way through the snow the night before, and the room was well and truly packed.

Sam took one look at the room, and immediately turned to Frodo. "What did you say this fellow's name is, as owns this place?"

"Mr. Bottleby," Frodo answered with a smile, already knowing what Sam had in mind.

"Well, it'd be lookin' like Mr. Bottleby'd be havin' that much on his hands that he might be appreciatin' a bit o'help," Sam gave a quick glance around the room, and then to his sisters, who both nodded in silent agreement, and with a smile. "So if you'd like t'be examinin' our prospects to be leavin' today, I think we'll be givin' him a bit of a hand before we eat."

Frodo's smile broadened at that, and he gave Sam a nod. "Excellent plan, Sam. I'll ask about the state of the roads, and let me know if I can help." But Sam and his sisters had already returned to the kitchen.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

It was soon clear that no-one would be leaving the shelter of the Laughing Cow that morning. Snow was falling heavily, whipped about by a biting wind, and all of the outdoors was nothing but white. After the flurry of first breakfast had subsided, Frodo and Sam joined Mr. Bottleby and his son, as well as various other local hobbits who had been trapped by the storm, as they cautiously opened the front door a crack, and stared out.

"Ponies'd need feedin'," mentioned an older hobbit laconically. "Wasn't expectin' this bit of weather yesterday afternoon."

"True enough," Bottleby stared in the direction of the invisible stable with a worried frown. "But a body could get right lost in that, just tryin' t'make it back."

The others nodded. Snow storms like this were rare, and definitely not to be trifled with. But Bottleby's son suddenly looked up with a thoughtful expression. "Ropes, Dad," he mentioned, rather shyly. "If we'd have enough rope, we could be makin' our way out and back w'out getting' lost."

Bottleby gazed at his son proudly. "Aye, we could do that," he agreed quickly. "And I've enough rope about, sure enough."

So it was that Frodo found himself in the midst of the snowstorm. Some hobbit, whose name he did not know, held to the other end of the rope that he had in his left hand, and at the end of the rope in his right was Sam. He stood in the swirling, biting, whiteness, feeling his toes starting to tingle with the chill of it, and tried to breathe under the woolen scarf that was wrapped around his face. There was nothing audible in all of this colorless world; all sound had been deadened and hushed, except for the wind whistling past his ear tips. It was disorienting, and for a moment, he almost felt frightened. But then he thought of Sam, just at the other end of this rope, and really, this was the Shire after all, and he was only standing in an innkeeper's yard. It wasn't as if he had gone to the ends of the world and back. He wasn't suddenly alone and bereft in this world, for he only had to give the slightest of tugs upon this rope, and there would be Sam. And as he was berating himself, the rope that connected him with Sam suddenly slackened, and there, in the pale light, Sam did appear, smiling warmly at him. And then behind him were the rest of the hobbits who had formed the chain, and they were once again back in the warm, noisy, crowded inn.

 

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The Gamgee lasses had been warmly welcomed in the kitchen, for they had an air of capable assuredness that was more than appreciated. But after the initial onslaught had subsided, and most of the patrons were contentedly trying to fill the corners with the odd bit of toast or two, the proprietor approached them once again.

"Mistress Gamgee?" he asked hesitantly. "Would y'be Daisy Gamgee from over Hobbiton way?"

"Aye," Daisy replied uncertainly, "that'd be true enough."

"Ah, now, lass, I've heard tell that you'd be havin' an uncommon way w'healin' those in need," he continued in a tentative manner, "and if that be true now, why, I'd wish you'd be havin' a look at my little 'un, for his cough fair worries me, I don't mind tellin' ye."

"I have studied a bit of herb lore," Daisy answered cautiously, as she rose from the table where she had finally had a chance to eat her own breakfast. "I would be glad to try t'do what I can for your lad."

"Ah, bless you, Mistress Gamgee," the proprietor's face cleared at once. "He'd be in our back room, and I'd be thankin' you ever so much." Daisy followed him immediately, and May, with a quick nod to her sister, left with her.

It didn't take long for rumor to spread that there was a healer in their midst, and all afternoon, hobbits throughout the crowded inn found their way to the back room, for a quiet word with Mistress Gamgee.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

Sam, Frodo, and the rest of the hobbits who had made their way out to the stable and back, had returned to the common room in time for second breakfast, and it was generally agreed that there'd be no leaving the Laughing Cow this day. Most of the patrons decided to treat the unexpected captivity as an unexpected holiday, and gladly settled in, forming congenial groups and ordering the first half-pint of the day. But Sam had noticed, as he and Frodo had made their way back into the crowded room, that Frodo had been wincing slightly as he walked.

He unobtrusively laid a hand on Frodo's shoulder, and gave him a silent inquisitive glance.

"Nothing really," Frodo responded, turning to Sam with a rather sheepish smile. "I think my toes might just be a bit frozen, but I'm sure they'll thaw out soon enough."

Sam gave him a quick discerning look, and muttered, "Then you should be goin' back to our room, Frodo, and I'll be meetin' you there soon enough."

Frodo had, as usual, to cave in to Sam's good hobbit sense, and made his way back to the small room. Sam followed shortly, carrying a basin of steaming water in his hands, and a towel under his arm. Setting it down carefully on the small table in the corner of the room, he turned to Frodo, arms crossed over his chest.

"All right then, let's be seein' it," he grumbled, softening the effect entirely with the glance he cast at Frodo.

Frodo, who had been sitting at the edge of the bed, lifted his feet up on the bed, and gave Sam a wry glance.

Sam, frowning at what he saw, gave a low hum of concern. Frodo's toes were too pale, a sure sign of possible frostbite. Picking up the pitcher of cold water that had been left behind that morning, he carefully mixed it with the basin of hot water, testing it until he was satisfied with the adjusted temperature.

Then he turned towards Frodo, who had been quietly seated on the side of the bed watching him, and piled up the blankets behind him.

"Lie back," he ordered, in a preemptory manner, and Frodo willingly did so. Then Sam carefully grasped one of Frodo's feet, and gently manipulating the toes as he did so, carefully submerged it in the basin of by now warm water.

Frodo unavoidably gasped at the sensation. At first it stung and shocked him, but Sam continued to gently, lovingly massage his toes, his arch, his sole, and indeed the entire foot, until Frodo gave an unavoidable moan at the sensuous caress, and leaning back against the blankets, closed his eyes.

Sam did not miss anything, and his smile widened, but his first concern was still Frodo's well-being. Carefully, he removed Frodo's foot from the basin, and laid it back upon the bed, to the side of his own leg. With great care, he dried it, testing and exercising the foot until he felt completely assured no damage had been done. Then slowly, methodically, he repeated the procedure with Frodo's other foot.

It was then that he glanced back over to Frodo, and a smile lit his face again. "You all right then, love?" he queried softly, and the smile only broadened when Frodo's eyes fluttered back open and, gazing at him breathlessly, Frodo quickly muttered, "Lock the door, Sam."

Gladly and without hesitation, Sam rose and examined the door of their room. There was, indeed a rudimentary bolt, and Sam quickly shoved it into place and turned back to Frodo. Frodo had already, in that short period of time, removed the towel and basin to a small chair by the side of the bed. He looked up to Sam, his gaze frank and hungry. "Come to me, Sam," he whispered, and Sam never needed any more invitation than that.

Unconsciously, he stripped himself off his jacket, never taking his eyes from Frodo, and the white cold light from the small window shone about Frodo's pale face, glistening and shimmering, and Sam felt his heart clench with the longing and wanting of this gloriously fair creature.

Dropping down beside Frodo on the narrow bed, he reached out, wrapping that beloved presence in his arms, and there was Frodo in his embrace, and Frodo's passionate kisses were falling on his mouth, the side of his face, oh, everywhere. And then Frodo had rolled him on his back and had his arms pinned to the pillow on either side of his face, and was looking down at him, his eyes dark and serious as the pale light shone from behind his head, touching and frosting his dusky curls.

"Frodo," cried out Sam at that, his voice husky with the wanting. "Frodo, please, love."

There was a sudden wondrous answering smile at that, both tender and knowing, and bending over Sam, Frodo kissed him again, long and lovingly. "Of course, dearest," he murmured at last, his hands now moving to Sam's clothing, quickly unbuttoning and unfastening, clearing the garments to the side, for it was too cold to remove them altogether. And now it was Frodo's kisses on Sam's sun-browned throat, down to his chest, and down further yet, playing, teasing, tasting those darker sensitive areas, until Sam could not help gasping, crying out, straining against Frodo's firm hold.

Frodo stopped for just a moment at that, giving a low and guttural laugh. But without any further hesitation, he then continued his trail down to Sam's navel, his tongue lapping it, teasing it. And how Sam moaned at that, arching his back, thrusting himself up, almost wild with the desire, the craving, until at last Frodo had pity on him, and closed his mouth around Sam.

Then, indeed, Sam bucked up, and with all the control left to him, fought to keep himself from wailing out in his need, and bit his lip, and threshed up again and again, to be met every time by Frodo's own craving for every bit of Sam that he could take into his mouth, until, at last, there was no further boundary to cross, and Sam gave himself over to Frodo's own need for him, completely and wholly, choking back the wild cries in his throat, and shuddering under Frodo's very touch.

They lay together for several moments in silence, except for Sam's quivering sighs, and Frodo's heavy breathing. It wasn't until then that they heard the cautious turn of the door handle, and then nearly silent footsteps receding down the hall. Frodo, who had been draped heavily over Sam in the aftermath, raised himself up with reluctance, and stared down at Sam, with a fond smile.

"We'll have our own room at the Great Smials, Sam, my dearest," he murmured, lightly stroking Sam's damp curls back from his forehead. "I'll wait, Sam, my love." Quietly then, his hand glided up Sam's cheek, passing behind his head again, and into his curls. With a last kiss, he rested his forehead against Sam's. "Always yours, Sam," he breathed, "always yours."

 

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By the next morning, the storm was gone, and that midday, the four travelers had arrived at the Great Smials.


	2. Chapter 2

The Great Smials appeared, mounded high with snow, as they rounded the bend in the road, and Sam was somewhat perplexed. He had been to Brandy Hall on two occasions now, and he had expected something along the lines of that stately grand edifice. But this, he thought at first, was a smial far more akin to Bag End. Fine enough, indeed, but hardly the magnificent home one expected of the fabled Tooks.

Frodo was watching him with a twinkle in his eye, though. "Not quite what you had in mind, Sam?" he laughed merrily. "Ah, you wait now. Let me warn you about one thing, however. Never set off inside here on your own. Unless you've been born here, you'll never find your way about this maze. It's all quite tucked away, you know. Doesn't show a bit from out here."

But Daisy and May, who, of course, had never seen Brandy Hall, stopped dead in their tracks in wonder. "Oh, isn't this the most marvelous, Daisy!" exclaimed May, her eyes round with awe, and her sigh of amazement coming out in a frosty cloud in the frigid air. For yes, it was a round wooden door in the side of the hill, but rather than a plain green one such as Bag End had, it was highly polished and most intricately carved. And there were round windows set into the side of the hill, some shuttered, and some not, but Sam suddenly realized that the windows continued on, set into the hill for quite a ways, and indeed, he could not see the end of them from where he stood.

There was a crowd of hobbits though, milling purposefully about in the well-trodden snow at the entrance to the smial. A stable was not far off, and the ponies of the newcomers were being led off towards it. For the travelers from Hobbiton were not the only new arrivals to Tuckborough this day.

Even as the travelers stood unnoticed in the general bustle, there arose an unusual commotion behind them, and they turned around to look. "Bracegirdle," muttered Frodo, with a certain amount of distaste, as they recognized their fellow guest from the last couple of days at the Laughing Cow. Bracegirdle it was, arriving in a rather elaborate cart, which was driven by the same serving hobbit that they had briefly met at the inn. Halting the pony near the front door, the young hobbit immediately hopped down and pulled out a step from the side of the cart for his employer to use in dismounting. Bracegirdle, a rather portly hobbit, thrust an elbow out to his companion for assistance and support, but never glanced at him once. As soon as he was out, he strode to the magnificent front door and rapped heavily upon it with his walking stick. In the meanwhile, his servant had rapidly gathered several bags and parcels from the carriage, and had quickly scuttled up behind his master. "Took your time about it, didn't you?" Bracegirdle growled, with never a look back, and then immediately plastered a wide grin on his face as soon as the door opened.

Paladin Took had flung open the door with an expectant look on his face, which immediately departed at the sight of his guest. "Bracegirdle," he declared, rather coolly. "Well, as I mentioned in my letter, this really isn't the best of times… Ah, well, I suppose you're here." He turned then to his wife, who was right behind him, "Lana, my dear, do you suppose we can find a room for..." but then he broke off suddenly at the expression on his wife's face, and glanced past the hobbit at the door.

"Frodo!" he boomed out at that, catching sight of the visitors from Bag End, "Frodo Baggins!" And he and Eglantine Took were past their other visitor without a backwards glance.

Frodo immediately was swept up in a bear hug by the head of the Took clan, and when he, laughing merrily, was transferred over to Lana's warm embrace, Paladin caught sight of the rest of the party. "Samwise Gamgee!" came the equally enthusiastic greeting and Sam found himself caught up in just as fierce an embrace. It wasn't until then that the two Tooks turned to the pair of lasses, who were shyly standing nearby.

"Why, you must be Sam's sisters," Eglantine Took exclaimed warmly, catching up a hand from each of them. "You both look so very much like him."

"Very perceptive of you, of course, Aunt Lana," Frodo exclaimed happily. "I would like to introduce you to Mistress Daisy Gamgee, and Miss May Gamgee."

"Daisy, is it?" Lana replied rather softly, giving her a discerning smile. "Oh, no, my dears," she laughed, as they both attempted a rather unpracticed curtsey. "You are both friends of the family here, my lasses."

"Frodo!" a sudden yell came from the front door of the smial. "Sam! Finally, you're here!" and a streak of gangling limbs and wild chestnut curls hit both the forenamed with a wild embrace.

"Of course we're here, Pip," chuckled Frodo, trying to maintain his balance in the snow under Pippin's onslaught. And the four were led into the Great Smials amidst laughter and excited chatter from Pippin, leaving Bracegirdle and his servant seemingly unnoticed on the front doorstep. But once Pippin had led Frodo and Sam off in one direction, and Mistress Took had taken Sam's sisters in another, Paladin Took returned reluctantly to the Bracegirdle, mentally selecting a rather small room, quite far from the dining hall, for him.

 

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"Had to pick out a new room for you, Frodo," Pippin laughed over his shoulder, as he cheerily led Frodo and Sam down the winding hallways of the Great Smials. "Your old room was only meant for one, you know."

"Oh, we probably could have carried on somehow," Frodo chuckled, making note of the corridors passed and the direction of the turns. Sam followed quite closely; suddenly aware that Frodo's warning regarding the complexity of the Great Smials had not been exaggerated.

"Here we are," Pippin stopped short, and opened a door. But before he entered, he pointed down the hallway, and added, "Mine's the one at the end of the next hall to the right, remember, Frodo?"

"Ah, yes, now I do," Frodo replied with a nod. "I used to stay in the second room on the left hand side, right?"

"That would have been the one. Good memory, cousin," Pippin said cheerily, and held the door open for the other two.

The room was large and, to Sam's eyes, wonderfully luxurious. The one bed was expansive, and well covered in soft but warm blankets. There was a cozy fire burning in the hearth, with two very comfortable chairs arranged temptingly before it. The thin sunlight of the winter afternoon shone through the large window, but there was a sturdy shutter available inside, should the residents of the room wish to sleep in late of a morning. A pot of tea sat on a small table on the side of the room, well swaddled to keep it warm, with all necessary accompanying items, as well as a tray of biscuits and scones to keep the visitor held together until the next meal.

"Mum thought you might be needing a bit of thawing," Pippin airily indicated the food. "I'll be off for a bit. Merry should be arriving soon."

He was nearly out the door, but stopped, and added with a grin, "Merry's parents are coming, too, Frodo. Just thought I'd give you fair warning."

Sam was nearly sure he had heard Frodo mutter something impolite under his breath, but Pippin laughed, and disappeared.

His head popped back in only a moment later. "Tea in about an hour, Frodo, if I don't make it back in time. Usual place, you know the drill."

Frodo nodded, and Pippin vanished, only to reappear nearly as quickly. "See here, you've told Sam about this place now, haven't you, Frodo?" he queried, with a bit of a frown this time.

"Absolutely," Frodo assured him with amusement. "No wandering about the smial without a guide."

"Good," Pippin nodded. "Lose guests all the time about this place. Find them weeks later wandering about the cellars with nothing but potatoes to keep them going. Right, then." And he disappeared again, this time for good.

As soon as it seemed fairly certain that Pippin would not be popping his head back in once more, Frodo turned around to Sam. "That tea is very persuasive, but…" he murmured, and then his one arm was firmly around Sam's waist, and the other had managed to suddenly be threading its way through the curls at the back of Sam's head, and Frodo's mouth was quite decisively on Sam's. "After all," Frodo breathed, as he and Sam finally broke apart, "I believe that we were rather interrupted yesterday."

But Sam quirked his mouth up at that with a rueful chuckle. "Ah, Frodo-love, not that you aren't just the most temptin' creature as ever was, but I'd best be findin' where my sisters ended up." He gently stroked the side of Frodo's face, feeling guilty about the look of disappointment he saw there.

"Oh, of course you're right, Sam" Frodo had to admit, even if with a certain reluctance, but with both arms still firmly around Sam. "It just seems forever, some days, until nighttime."

" 'Tis no denyin' that," breathed Sam as Frodo's mouth found his again. Once again, he broke away, this time with a laugh, "Frodo Baggins! An' what would y'be up to now?" he asked in mock indignation, tugging one of Frodo's hands out from under the fabric of his trousers, where it had somehow found itself.

Frodo sighed at that, and tried his best to look forlorn. "No comfort for a poor old hobbit, then…"

Sam's eyebrow went up at that. "I'd be thinkin' 'tis not a cheer-up pat you'd have in mind," he retorted with mock severity.

Frodo had to give in and laugh then. "Well, I suppose not," he admitted. "I guess your sisters would appreciate having a look at you before tea after all."

Taking Sam's arm in his, he had started to walk toward the door when he felt Sam suddenly stand still. "Frodo," Sam said softly, with an odd look on his face, as Frodo turned to glance inquiringly at him. "I'd rather take tea in the servant's hall, if you'd not mind that much."

Frodo looked at him with surprise. Sam's gaze had quickly transferred itself to the floor, and he could see that Sam's cheeks were flushed.

"Why, Sam?" he asked in bewilderment. "This isn't Brandy Hall, you know. Pippin's parents won't be offended by your staying with me. Actually, I would rather think they would expect you to."

"I know, Frodo, that isn't it. It's just, well," Sam stammered slightly, before lifting his head and declaring, with a firm determination, "I'd not be gentry, Frodo. An', I'd not want t'be seemin' as I was. If it t'were just me here, I'd not be mindin' that much, but with my sisters, there'll be those as would say something, and that would hurt them."

"What would they say, Sam?" Frodo had to ask, starting to realize the implications of what Sam was telling him.

"Mostly foolishness, as unkind folk would always be sayin', just from not being able to understand."

"And would they still be saying that sort of thing, about Hobbiton?" Frodo continued, almost uncomfortably, suddenly knowing that he really had not considered this.

Sam was silent for a long moment, watching Frodo's face as he began to understand what this had meant for Sam. "Aye," he answered at last, very quietly.

But there was no time to reflect upon this, as Pippin suddenly burst through the door, followed by Merry.

 

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The two Gamgee sisters humbly followed Eglantine Took down a large paneled hall and past several closed doors before they stopped in the doorway of a large comfortable sitting room. There were any number of well-dressed young hobbits chatting and laughing and sipping tea about the crackling fire inside the room, and both Daisy and even May suddenly felt awkward and woefully underdressed for the company. But then there was a cry of delight, and Pearl Took bounced out of a settle in the corner, and made her way through the others with her arms opened wide in greeting.

"Oh, Daisy, I was so hoping you would come," she exclaimed, wrapping her in a fierce hug.

Daisy had lost her powers of speech but nodded happily when Pearl at last drew back, her cheeks flushed with red.

"And you brought May as well," Pearl then added, catching sight of May standing, with uncharacteristic uncertainty, next to her. "That's wonderful," she caught up May too, in a slightly less tight embrace. Turning her back to the others in the room, who had been watching this greeting with a certain amount of curiosity, she herded the two lasses back into the hall again. Mistress Took had gone, to resume her duties in the entrance hall, and Pearl caught up the bag, that May had gratefully laid down, without thought.

"Follow me, then, " she called out gaily over her shoulder, and headed off into the warren that was the Took home, chatting all the while. "I'll introduce you to that lot later, but I think you would rather get to your room and warm up and rest a bit before you try to remember a list of names. I wasn't sure if you'd make it you know, so most of the grander rooms were already taken, but I always thought that this was a lovely room, if a little out of the way, and here we are."

She stopped in front of a door and opened it. Both May and Daisy peeked into it from behind her with awe. Neither had ever seen a room so warm and welcoming, from the small bouquet of winter blooms in a glass on the table, to the clear glass window that let the wintry sunshine in, to the soft blue blankets on the wide bed, and the brightly colored hearth rug that cheered the room up so. Pearl grinned delightedly at the looks on their faces. "And here's the best part," she added, with a conspiratorial smile. Walking over to a door on the far side of the room, she opened it with a flourish. "Your very own bath room," she indicated with a smile.

And indeed it was, wood-paneled, with a large copper tub and a stool well laden with towels, a small glazed window high up to let the light in, and a small fire to warm the room and to heat the bath water.

May stopped still in the doorway, and unconsciously let out a longing sigh. The other two couldn't help but laugh at that. "Rather a long and cold trip, I should imagine," Pearl said sympathetically. "Perhaps you wouldn't mind a hot bath?"

And in no time, May was luxuriating in the most wonderful tub she had ever known, and happy tunes floated into the other room from time to time from behind the closed door.

"This room used to be my grandmother's," Pearl said softly, sitting on the bed and watching Daisy bring in the bags from the doorway where they had been abandoned. "I wanted it myself, but my mother thought it was too far away from everyone else's. I wouldn't have minded that."

"It really is very nice," Daisy said shyly, standing in front of the small table, and gently touching the blossoms there.

There was a moment's silence, and then Pearl said softly, "You never answered any of my letters, Daisy."

Once again, Daisy's cheeks reddened, and her gaze remained upon the flowers. But with an effort, she raised her head and looked bravely at Pearl. "I didna know my letters," she replied quietly.

Pearl stared silently at her for a moment, and then was instantly up, catching her in a close embrace. "I'm so sorry, Daisy, I never thought…" she cried apologetically, her voice catching.

""No matter, me dear, how could you be knowin' that?" Daisy replied warmly, kissing Pearl's cheek as Pearl's head was laid upon her shoulder. She led Pearl back to the bed, and they both sat on the edge of it, their arms still around each other. "I did try to get Sam to teach me," she added, smoothing Pearl's hair back from her flushed cheeks, "but it was that hard, I never could read but a word here and there o'it. An' I never had the courage to write aught back."

"I'm sorry," Pearl repeated with a sniff, drawing a quick hand across her teary eyes. "And here I was, thinking…" and she stopped short at that.

Daisy smiled at her again, and said softly, "Well, now you know. But," and here she stood up, breaking away from Pearl. She walked over to her bag and reaching inside, toward the bottom, drew out a well-wrapped small parcel. May's voice could still be heard sporadically, with the occasional splash. Unwrapping the cloth protecting them, Daisy held out the stack of letters to Pearl.

"Please," she looked at Pearl, humbly yet hopefully. "Read them to me now?"

"Oh, yes," Pearl breathed, holding out a hand to Daisy. "Come here, love, and I will."

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

"I'll come for you then, before dinner," Frodo spoke quietly to Sam. They were standing in an out-of-the-way alcove, near the entrance to the servant's hall, and Frodo had Sam's hand clasped tightly, but unobtrusively, between them. "They all have dinner together, in one great hall, as in Buckland."

Then he sighed, casting his eyes down to their hands, reluctant to leave. "Sam," he murmured hesitantly, "I so wish…"

"I know, Frodo-love," Sam responded gently. "But you'd be needin' t'be with your family, and I need t'be where I belong."

Frodo quickly looked up at him at that, with an almost fierce glare. "There's only one place you need to be, Samwise Gamgee. And that would be here," he muttered gruffly. And with that, he threw an arm around Sam, and gave him a swift, but intense kiss.

"Ah, Frodo," Sam sighed regretfully, still tightly clutching Frodo's other hand, as Frodo released him and stepped back. " 'Tis the only place I've ever wanted t'be."

A small smile lit Frodo's face at that. "Good," he answered softly. "Tonight, my Sam. I'll find you tonight." He let go of Sam's hand at that, and turned without another glance to follow Pippin and Merry, who had earlier left down the great hallway.

Sam gave another private sigh and turned to enter the servant's hall, passing a hobbit as he did so who seemed oddly familiar. He turned to look again, but the other was gone.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

The three cousins were heading down the hallways, Frodo rather somberly in the rear, when they encountered Pearl and the two Gamgee sisters, also headed to the sitting room for tea. Daisy stopped short at the sight of the three of them. "Excuse me, Mr. Frodo," she asked hesitantly, "but where would my brother be?"

Frodo halted almost reluctantly, letting the other two pass heedlessly on ahead. "Sam thought to find you in the servants' hall," he answered, almost unwillingly, deliberately not looking at Pearl.

"Ah," breathed Daisy, clearly with relief, "that's we'd ought t'be, surely now." May stopped behind her silently, reassurance and disappointment obviously mingled upon her face.

"Wouldn't he rather stay with you?" Pearl asked from behind Daisy, noticeably dismayed by Frodo's words.

"No, I rather think not," Frodo answered firmly, giving Pearl an intent glance. She said no more at that, but bowed her head.

Frodo presented an arm to both Daisy and May then. "I'll be more than happy to lead you there," he offered quietly. "We will all be meeting again for dinner, as is the custom here." He gave another glance toward Pearl, but she said nothing and turned to follow Pippin and Merry back to the sitting room where the company expected them.

 

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Frodo made his distracted way back to the crowded sitting room, his mind far from the hobbits within. But as he entered the high-ceilinged, spacious room, his attention was immediately drawn back to present company by the booming voice of his uncle, Saradoc Brandybuck, Merry's father.

"Frodo, my lad," he heard, and immediately he was embraced tightly by a strong pair of arms, and Merry and Pippin were grinning at him from nearby.

"Good Yule to you, too, Uncle Sara," he responded politely yet warmly, giving the Master of Buckland an affectionate hug in return.

Saradoc Brandybuck chuckled and murmured, "Good to see you, Frodo, you've been away from Brandy Hall entirely too long. But those two have been waiting for you, so I'll have a chat with you later." He turned toward one of the large diamond-paned windows, where a grateful Paladin Took caught sight of him, and took the excuse to escape the omnipresent Bracegirdle.

"Come have some teacake, Frodo," Merry clasped a warm hand around Frodo's shoulders. "It really is rather good, raisins and all." Frodo gave him an amused smile. Merry couldn't have been in the room any more than five minutes ahead of him, but evidence that his opinion was based upon fact was already demonstrated by the heaped plate in his hand, and with a gulp, the other half of the teacake slice promptly disappeared after the first.

Pippin nodded happily at Merry's side, his plate equally full. "Cook's awfully good at that sort of thing," he agreed placidly. "Try it, Frodo. It's nearly as good as Sam's."

But instantly, at the sight of the change of expression on Frodo's face, Pippin apologetically reached out to lightly touch Frodo's arm. "I didn't mean…" he began, rather lamely, and then had to ask, "Why won't Sam come in here, Frodo? Really, my parents would love to have him."

"I know, Pippin," Frodo sighed, and headed toward the tea table. He rather moodily fixed himself a cup, and then walked over to an empty corner chair near the bookshelves.

His cousins silently followed him, giving each other a concerned glance behind his back. Merry propped himself on the arm of the matching corner chair, and Pippin plopped himself down on the rug in front of Frodo. "Out with it, cousin," Merry said, as soon as they had situated themselves away from the others. "What's this all about?"

Frodo sightlessly stared into his teacup before finally taking a sip. "Sam doesn't think he belongs in here," he said at last, unhappily. "He thinks that the others will think that he's putting himself above his station and make remarks, and, especially with his sisters here too, that's not what he wants."

The other two watched silently, as Frodo plunked his cup on a side table and rising, strode heedlessly over to a window. "It's not right," Frodo said then, very softly, and with both concern and amazement, the other two could suddenly see that he was blinking back tears. "It's just not right."

Merry moved first, walking quickly over to Frodo and standing between him and the rest of the room as Frodo fought to regain control of himself. Pippin was right behind, silent, but watching Frodo with dismay. "I'm sorry," Frodo bent his head down, and then glanced quickly over at them, restrained again, with only a trace of suspicious brightness to his eyes. "I just never think about how his life has been turned upside down by me. When there's just the two of us at Bag End, it never seems to matter at all. He handles it so well that I forget what sort of position I've put him in, sometimes."

Merry watched him, and only Pippin noticed the odd look that fleetingly rested in his eyes. "Whatever he has to deal with," he observed softly, "I rather think Sam finds reward enough being with you."

"But that's just it, you see," Frodo glanced unhappily over at him. "Why should it be he that pays the price?"

Merry did not reply immediately, but turned his head toward the center of the room. His mother was seated on the central couch, comfortably tucked into a corner of it, and with a chair pulled up before her, was a smiling Bracegirdle. Her clear laugh could suddenly be heard, and it was obvious, by the direction of their gaze, who their topic of conversation was.

"I believe Sam isn't the only one paying a price," Merry observed softly, with narrowed eyes. "This room seems to be getting a trifle close, lads. Perhaps we need a walk outside."

They left the room at that, and cared not who looked their way, and why. Outside, they followed Pippin blindly over the snowy grounds, until they found themselves in the kitchen garden courtyard, well sheltered with brick walls. Frodo, who had had his head down, suddenly gave it a quick shake, and looked towards his cousins, who were silently following him, with a rueful smile. "Don't mind me," he said softly. "This is a matter for Sam and me. But tell me, Pip, who is that Bracegirdle fellow?"

Merry gave a snort at that. "I could tell you that, Frodo," he declared wryly. "He's a second cousin once removed, or some such nonsense, to my mother, as well as Pip's father."

Pippin nodded at that. "He's been trying to buy a couple of ponies off of my father for months," he offered. "Apparently, he's at it again."

"Yuletide," Merry grunted. "Always the best time for business matters. Puts everyone in the holiday spirit, that does."

Frodo couldn't help laughing at that. "All right," he conceded, "I'll pay him no mind." Glancing around the frosty garden, his eyes fell on a snow-dusted plant, both rose-colored, and green. "What's this?" he asked, curiously. "Some sort of cabbage or chard?"

Pippin stared at the plant blankly. "No idea, whatsoever," he finally offered, feebly. "I'd have to ask the gardeners."

Frodo chuckled fondly at that. "Of course you wouldn't know, Pip," he murmured warmly. "But Sam will be wanting to see this."

 

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Sam was sitting with his sisters, cups of tea and plates of well-buttered bread before them, when the other hobbit walked up. Sam recognized him instantly as being Bracegirdle's servant. Politely, he stood up with a bow, acknowledging his counterpart's presence.

"Lar Hoarfoot," the other introduced himself, rather shyly. "At your service, my good hobbits."

"Samwise Gamgee," Sam responded, bowing slightly, "and my sisters Daisy and May." Indicating an empty seat beside him, he added in a friendly fashion, "Join us, won't you?"

The other hobbit sat down next to Sam, with a nod of his head and a bashful smile. Silently, he watched the merriment and chatter around him, before diffidently turning to Sam and observing, "Your master seems to be a very fine gentle hobbit."

Sam turned to look at him with an expression of uncertainty. "Aye, that he is," he said softly, watching Lar closely. "Never any better than him."

Lar gave a soft sigh at that, still not looking directly at Sam, but just then, a fiddler, down at one end of the hall, struck a ringing, rolling chord upon his instrument. Reeds, hurdy-gurdies, tambourines and drums immediately joined in to set out a grand flourish, and a great cry of delight went up in the servant's hall of the Great Smial, which was quickly and enthusiastically cleared. It was time for dancing.

May clapped her hands together, her cheeks flushing with delight, for there was nothing she loved more. "Dancing, Sam!" she cried out with glee, turning to her brother.

"Very well, then," he laughed fondly at her predictable response. "I'll take you out for a turn, m'dear." And with a quick arm around her waist, and the flash of an amused glance back at a chuckling Daisy, Sam deftly led May into the midst of the dancers.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

The dancing was still continuing a few hours later, when Frodo made his way to the hall to find Sam. Unobserved, he stood quietly near the doorway and watched. He immediately spotted Sam, in the midst of the dancers, partnered with a buxom lass with flying curls and a merry giggle. She whispered something into his ear as they drew together for a twirling step, and Sam laughed and shook his head playfully as they drew apart. Frodo noticed May Gamgee dancing as well, with the hobbit that they had met at the inn, Bracegirdle's servant. But he was almost unrecognizable from the timid creature that had jumped at Bracegirdle's commands, and it was clear that May had found a partner whose love of dancing equaled her own. Even Daisy, though not dancing, was chatting happily with a pair of goodwives as they sat on the benches near the great hearth.

And as Frodo watched Sam, he had to concede that Sam had been right. The three Gamgees were far happier and far more at their ease here then they ever would have been in the sitting room. But as he continued to watch, Frodo knew equally as well that he could never belong here. He felt a curious unhappy pang at that thought, and felt reluctant to question why.

But just then, Sam caught sight of him, and the happy smile that had been on his face deepened, and his eyes lit up. With a bow to his disappointed partner, he escorted her to the side, and approached Frodo. " 'Tis almost nighttime, now, Frodo-love," he said softly to Frodo, with a tender smile, not even glancing about to see who might hear.

Frodo couldn't help a quiet laugh at that, a quick surge of excitement running through him at Sam's tone. "Weary travelers that we are, I should think no one would mind us retiring early tonight," he smiled warmly, and reached out for Sam's hand.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

Sam was unprepared for what he saw as he escorted Daisy into the Great Hall of the Took ancestral home. Frodo was just ahead of him, with May's arm firmly wrapped around his, but he could hear May's gasp before he looked in himself, and understood. The Great Hall at Brandy Hall had been majestic indeed, a large stately room in the newer section of the Hall that was built away from the hill, grand enough to have two huge stone fireplaces at either end, and the richest of appointments throughout.

But this. The room was cavernous, dug into the heart of the ancient hill forgotten ages ago. The ceiling arched high, darkly out of sight, and there were no less than four grand hearths that he saw, to warm and cheer the place. There were torches, rather than candles, set into the walls, but the long highly polished table that ran through the center of the hall had more candles merrily flickering down it than Sam's family had ever used in a year. Long benches ran down the sides of the table, well cushioned, and with comfortable backs, and the immense side tables held unimaginable quantities of food and drink. And rather than the stately costly look the table at Brandy Hall had had, the great table here seemed as though an entire storehouse of rich and antique dishes, goblets and silver had been carelessly strewn across it for all, gentle-hobbits and serving folk alike, to use as they chose.

Frodo had turned with an amused look to watch Sam's reaction to this splendor. "Rather impressive, isn't it?" he chuckled. "Not that you'll ever get Pippin to admit it. It's just home to him." Looking over to one side, he noticed Pearl Took approaching, and with a slight gracious bow, he led the two obviously stunned lasses toward her.

Quickly stepping back again next to Sam, he confided with a grin, "But the best of it all is that no one really cares where and with whom you sit."

Sam looked questioningly at him as they stood together just to the side of the hall's entrance. "I'm afraid I'd not understand," he admitted hesitantly.

"Well, that isn't completely true," Frodo amended his statement, pointing to the center of the lengthy table. "The Took and Thain is always seated at the center along with his wife, and Pip, as heir, has to sit there too. He hates that, you know," he chuckled, gesturing to where Pip did indeed sit, accompanying his parents. "And if Merry's parents are here, they sit there as well, and Merry too, which at least gives Pip company. But the rest of us lesser mortals," he continued with a grin at Sam, "may sit where we wish. Gentle hobbits, working hobbits, it makes no difference at the Great Smials. At least not on feast days."

Sam had already noticed that Pearl had drawn his two sisters further away down the table, and was introducing them to a pair of gentle-hobbit lasses. "Pippin's other two sisters," Frodo explained, following Sam's gaze. "Pimpernel and Pervinca. They're good company too, I'd imagine they'll all get on." He paused for a moment thoughtfully, and added, "Actually, Nell can be a bit of a snit at times, but I'm sure Pearl will keep her in line. But let's get some food, and sit wherever you like."

They had just settled down in a relatively less populated section of the table, plates well heaped and an entire bottle of Tuckbourough's finest under Frodo's arm, for his and Sam's exclusive use, when several older hobbits rather noisily joined the throng. It was evident that their time had been spent, prior to dinner, with something a bit stronger than tea, and to Frodo and Sam's dismay, the empty benches across from where they sat seemed to prove attractive. Frodo recognized a couple of his more distant Took cousins and, unfortunately, Bracegirdle among the pack.

Down they heavily plopped, laughing loudly and referring to obscure jokes in rather slurred voices. A couple of them rose, wandering off in search of some food, and, of course, another bottle or two. The others started to gaze about after a bit, and that's when Bracegirdle's eye fell on Frodo and Sam. His own servant, who had followed him in, was quietly standing at his back, awaiting his master's whim.

"You see," he slurred, with a look of distaste at the two of them, "tha's wha's all wrong about that Hobbiton lot. No proper respect for position."

"Actually, old chap," muttered one of the distant Tooks to Bracegirdle, confidentially buttonholing him, and speaking with a wink, "that's rather the custom here on feast days. All one merry family, don't you know."

"Not the best of customs, if you ask me," Bracegirdle replied acidly, continuing to give Frodo and Sam a cold stare. "Gives the working class airs, I'd say. Might almost be thinking they'd be equal, or some such rubbish. You'd not be thinking anything like that, now would you, boy?" he gave a barking laugh, never glancing back.

"No, sir," his servant answered quickly but quietly, staring straight ahead.

Frodo gave the other visitor a cold glance and shrugged briefly. "This open table does seem to attract all sorts," he bit down on his words crisply. "Shall we move down the table a bit, Sam? The view seems rather better down there."

Sam said nothing but followed Frodo down to a more companionable section of the table. As he did so however, he caught a glimpse of an almost wistful glance from Lar before his head turned rigidly in front of him again.

 

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Frodo was quiet as they entered their room after dinner, but Sam could see that the current of bitterness that had been just under his congenial behavior all evening was still there. He had had perhaps more wine than he usually did, and had even brought a bottle back with him. Sam inwardly sighed, but prepared himself. Frodo would have to be getting this anger out before the evening was over. There was something eating at him, and it was more than just the Bracegirdle.

Frodo stood in front of the fire, which had already been lit and coaxed into a cozy flame, and seemed lost in thought. Sam stood quietly by the door he had just closed, and watched him. As always, the glow of the flames lit Frodo's fair skin with a golden glow, and brought out the russet lights in his dark curls. And even though Sam waited with silent concern, he couldn't help but marvel at the beauty that was Frodo. Even in this splendid setting with riches and magnificence everywhere, Frodo still shone out in Sam's eyes, all grace and radiance. It was ever a wonder to him that others seemed to consider him as lacking, not looking as a proper hobbit should. But then Frodo broke into his bemused thoughts by unconsciously sighing, and turning toward the round window with its still open shutter, rested his forehead against the cold glass and closed his eyes.

Well, that was entirely too much for Sam. He was behind Frodo in an instant, quickly grasping the bottle from Frodo's unresisting grip, and laying it hastily aside on a nearby table. Then wrapping gentle arms around Frodo, he lightly kissed the nape of Frodo's neck, inhaling the wonderful clean scent of his curls, and waited, speaking to Frodo only through his touch.

Frodo laid one hand over Sam's arms, but did not otherwise move or utter a word for quite awhile. But then Sam felt him set his shoulders slightly, and knew that Frodo was ready to talk. His voice was quiet, yet somehow harsh. "What do they say in Hobbiton, Sam?" he asked, his eyes still closed, and his forehead still on the glass.

He had not forgotten Sam's words, and Sam withdrew slightly from Frodo at that, wishing that he had earlier had the sense to say naught. It was his clumsy words, once again, stirring up old troubles, and fretting at Frodo. Guiltily, he stepped back, and murmured, "Only foolishness, Frodo. Naught to be thinkin' of." Well he knew though, that this would not satisfy Frodo.

Frodo turned around quickly at Sam's words, and nearly snapped at him. "Sam, I should know. They'll never say it to my face, there, but I know you hear it. What do they say of us?"

"Naught that's true," Sam answered unhappily, dreading to try to put the sideways glances, the knowing smiles and lifted eyebrows into words. He had learned to ignore them, to sometimes hear selectively, to not react to insinuation and not give them the satisfaction of a response.

Frodo read his face all too well however, and, walking over to where Sam stood, grasped his shoulders with a firm grip. "It's mostly you they speak of, isn't it," he stated tightly, watching as Sam's face helplessly colored in response, and Sam lowered his eyes. "They've always thought me a bit odd, just like Bilbo was, and of course I'm Master of Bag End. No, it'd be you that would be the brunt of remarks, wouldn't it, Sam."

Sam nodded almost imperceptibly, his eyes closing tightly. His words came out haltingly, in a ragged whisper. "They say I'm lookin' for riches and a fine life. That as long as I'd be pleasin' you, I'd be thinkin' myself as above them all. They say that I'd be makin' your bed a lot colder if you'd no gold." He drew a breath that was more of a sob, and looking back up into Frodo's somber eyes, his own filled with tears, he added, "They say so many hurtful things sometimes, I don't have the heart t'tell you. But it ain't all of them, Frodo, just some folks with small hearts and not the sense they were born with."

The anger that had been in Frodo's words flamed across his face, and his grip on Sam's arms unknowingly tightened. But Sam raised a gentle hand to the side of his face and lightly touched his cheek. " 'Tis only a pack of lies, me dear, don't you let it be hurtin' you, now. I'd not be carin' what folk like that think, you'd never be changin' their minds. They only look for hurt and sorrow, they never see love."

Standing close to Frodo, he touched his face again lightly, and then drew back, breaking Frodo's unresisting grasp and throwing his arms around Frodo's neck. "This is what'd they'd never know," he breathed, and passionately met Frodo's mouth with his own. With a choked moan, Frodo's mouth opened instantly to his, as one strong arm encircled Sam's waist and the other ran through Sam's curls, drawing him all the closer. Hungrily, Frodo's tongue sought his, twining with it, caressing it.

Sam needed no more invitation than that. Never letting their mouths part, he thrust his hands under Frodo's jacket and slid it off of his shoulders. Frodo released his embrace of Sam for only a moment, to let the garment drop to the ground, and then held Sam all the more closely. Sam could feel Frodo's legs pressing against his own, and Frodo's arousal grinding into his hip. Eagerly, he slid his hand down the front of Frodo's trousers, rubbing it slowly but fervently, and Frodo broke his mouth away from Sam's at that touch and gasped, his eyes closing as he pushed himself into Sam's strong hand.

"Oh, Sam," he cried out, throwing his head back. As always, the sight of that luminescent throat was enticing beyond all thought to Sam, and with a soft unconscious growl, his hands were suddenly busy with Frodo's weskit and shirt buttons, and his mouth was on those irresistible collar bones, kissing and nibbling, his tongue darting in the delicious hollows. And now he could feel Frodo's hand on him, those long strong fingers molding themselves to him, sliding lingeringly against the rough fabric of his trousers, and he felt his knees begin to weaken with the sheer want to feel this beloved body bare and tight against his.

With a fierce cry, he pulled the rest of Frodo's upper garments off, and now his calloused hands ground up Frodo's chest, which was already starting to slicken with sweat. Bending toward Frodo, he traced his tongue further down now, tasting the salt, tracing and nipping at those dark circles, hearing Frodo's gasping cries.

Frodo's hands had moved around by now to the front of his trousers, and were rapidly unfastening them, tugging at the cloth. And oh, that was nearly painful, as hard as he was by now, but his own hands joined Frodo's in pulling at the clothing, as his mouth once again found Frodo's. And then the feel of those fingers around him, with no more intervening fabric. All rational thought escaped Sam then, as he clasped Frodo's hands tightly in his own, and moved his hips unconsciously, his breath coming in short gasps. It was only with the greatest of effort that he managed to open his eyes and look into Frodo's, and at that, he was, as always, lost to the rest of the world.

Frodo's normally light blue eyes were dark in the flickering golden light, but it was the expression that they held that made Sam suddenly giddy. It was naked passion and open love shining in Frodo's eyes, freely offered and without reserve or guard. "I truly love you, Sam," he whispered fervently, and his touch was burning on Sam's skin. "There's nothing at all I would not do for you, my dearest Sam."

"Ah!" Sam cried out at that, his heart so full that it surely seemed as if it must be close to breaking. "Love me, Frodo! 'Tis all I've ever wanted, all I've ever dreamed of."

And now it felt as if Frodo was half leading, half carrying him to the soft bed, and divesting both of them quickly of what garments still remained. "Always, Sam, my dearest love," he murmured tenderly, lying over Sam, who was clutching tightly to him and almost moaning with want. He ground down hard on Sam then, who rocked himself upward with a strangled shout. "Always, Sam," he repeated, holding Sam's gaze as their bodies fell into the age-old rhythm. "I'll always love you, Sam."

There were no more words Sam could utter at that save Frodo's name, calling him and wordlessly promising to stay, to always be with him, to forever love him.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

Daisy lay in her luxurious bed beside her sister, whose excited chatter had finally started to fade, and had been replaced with the quiet breathing of one who was well asleep. She stared out of the window, at the clear stars coldly bright in the frigid winter night. Reviewing the day's events, she gave a small sigh, careful not to disturb her sister.

But as she fell asleep, her thoughts were of a quiet Bag End, with its flower-strewn back field, and the lass she had swung about in her arms, as the two of them laughed in the warm afternoon sun.


	3. Chapter 3

Sam lay with his face well tucked in the crook of Frodo's neck, and sleepily considered the sound he thought he had just heard. It had sounded like a quiet knock, but then it hadn't repeated itself. Well, if whoever it was would just be so kind as to go away, then he would be more than happy to nuzzle his nose drowsily against those silky curls, to tighten his grip ever so slightly there, and to just make the tiniest of adjustments, oh, there. He was beginning to fall back into a warm blissful doze, when he felt Frodo stir against him and give himself a feline stretch.

"Drat this crowd anyways," Sam grumbled internally, blinking his eyes open with some difficulty. If they had been at Bag End, they could have slept in peace, at least until midmorning, or until the rumblings of their stomachs would have been too loud to ignore. But Frodo then yawned, and rolling away from Sam, propped himself up on his elbows.

"First breakfast," Frodo muttered sleepily. "They leave it at the door." They could have left it on the back garden door stoop, for all Sam was concerned, and he voiced his protest with an annoyed groan, and an even tighter clasp around Frodo's waist.

Frodo gave a warm chuckle, and leaning over Sam, brushed his forehead with a light kiss. "Not going far, love," he murmured. "Don't you think of getting up." Slipping from Sam's grasp, he left their warm bed and with another stretch or two, ambled over to the door.

Sam's attention had now been truly captured. The wintry sunlight was already brightening the window, for they had never thought of closing the shutter the night before, and Sam considered the fact that he never saw enough of Frodo's backside, since his attention usually was preoccupied with the front view. But perhaps he should get Frodo to turn around more often, for it really was lovely: creamy white skin, a long, strong back, and such a charmingly pert rump. Frodo really had all the flesh on him that he needed, Sam decided, and those who claimed otherwise had obviously never had the view that he had, especially when Frodo opened the door just enough, and bent down to retrieve the tray that had been set outside in the hallway.

But Frodo was returning to the bed now, door firmly closed behind him, with tousled dark curls and a still rather sleepy expression, and a fully laden tray, complete with a steaming pot, in his hands. Deftly catching hold of a small table nearby with one foot, he tugged it closer to the bed, and laid the tray on it. "Stay there, Sam," he looked up and ordered with a laugh, as Sam instinctively started to get out of bed to assist him.

Sam did so, and was rewarded, as Frodo crossed back over to the fireplace, and stooped over to stir up the fire that had nearly burnt out during the night, with another enticing view similar to that which he had just enjoyed. The flames caught, and danced up again, and Frodo quickly returned to bed.

"Ah, you're that cold, Frodo-love," Sam chided him, as Frodo scooted up to him under the covers, feeling Frodo's chilled skin next to his own.

"Umm, a temporary state, I'm sure," Frodo nudged into Sam with a chuckle, as Sam gladly wrapped him up in his arms. They lay quietly together, tightly intertwined, listening to the crackle of the flames, until at last the aroma wafting from the pot became impossible to ignore.

"Hmm." Sam finally poked his head up, resting his chin lightly on Frodo's chest, which lay between the tray at the side of the bed, and his own curiosity about the sort of items this place might provide in terms of first breakfast. Frodo rather snickered at that, and leaning forward, kissed the tip of Sam's nose.

"Held out longer than I thought you would," he chuckled, sliding himself up into a sitting position under the covers. This left Sam's chin in his lap, and Sam did spare a thought or two as to that, but the temptation of breakfast was proving too strong to resist. He sat up as well, and leaned over Frodo.

The teapot, of course, along with small pots of cream and honey, as well as freshly baked bread, with additional pots of butter and jam, and a couple of ruddy late autumn apples. "Ah," Sam mentioned appreciatively, and Frodo laughed again.

"I saw, Sam," he teased. "Strawberry. I knew breakfast would never wait, once you spotted that."

Sam smiled, and didn't bother to deny it. Still leaning across Frodo, he deftly buttered bread for the both of them, and spread a slight amount of the jam on Frodo's slice, as he preferred it, and copious amounts on his own. Squiggling slightly, just to tease Frodo back, he pulled himself back across Frodo, sat up next to him and offered Frodo his slice, and then settled down with his own. Frodo had thrown his left arm around Sam's shoulders, bread held in his other hand, and Sam nestled happily against Frodo's side, contently munching.

The overload of jam, however, was not easily handled, and it was inevitable that a small portion of it managed to plop off. Fortunately, the covers were drawn back somewhat, and thus it landed on Frodo's exposed stomach. Both sets of eyes were drawn to this unusual sight, and after only a moment, Frodo began to helplessly giggle.

" 'Twould be a shame t'see any of this fine jam goin' to waste, now, surely it would," Sam remarked, his casual tone belied by the wicked grin he cast in Frodo's direction.

"I thought you'd feel that way," Frodo gasped, his own bread-and-butter held high to the side, and completely forgotten.

"I knew you'd be takin' my meaning," Sam murmured, as he cunningly managed to reach over Frodo and drop his piece of bread heedlessly back on the tray, and meet the jam dollop with his mouth at exactly the same time.

"Ah!" Frodo moaned, his eyes flickering closed, at the sensation of Sam's tongue quite thoroughly covering the area in question. "Did you get it all, Sam?" he asked breathlessly, as the covers were suddenly tenting next to Sam's face.

Sam's response was rather unintelligible, but could have been interpreted as, "Not quite, I don't think so," since his head did not rise, and he continued to cover the area of concern with gusto. And now, apparently, the jam must have found its way a little further down, and perhaps got onto the dark curls that were presently tickling Sam's nose, as he continued his ministrations.

Frodo choked back another cry at that, and the hand that was not involved with the bread-and-butter immediately found itself clamped to the back of Sam's head. Sam gave an indefinable grunt at that, and continued down further still.

"Oh, oh," cried Frodo breathlessly, the hand that had been at the back of Sam's head leaving for the moment to twitch the covers further away, as his back arched up and the bread-and-butter in the other hand was quite unconsciously mashed into the headboard over his head. And certainly there could have been no jam left at this point, yet Sam's tongue continued to swirl around Frodo. Slowly he took Frodo in, and his teeth teased and nipped until Frodo, trying desperately not to yowl, took to panting loudly instead, as he thrust himself up into Sam's mouth. Slowly and painstakingly Sam started, as Frodo gasped, sparing only a fleeting grateful thought as to how very good Sam had gotten at this over the last couple of years, and tried to hold himself back. But the pace gradually increased until, as much as he tried to stay back from the brink, it wasn't that long before he could not keep himself from rocking wildly into Sam's mouth, and feeling the melting sensation of letting himself go.

Frodo lay spineless for several moments, with a heaving chest and Sam draped over him, before Sam sat up and wiped his mouth with a rather satisfied grin. "Strawberry," he mentioned thoughtfully, "not all tha'bad," and Frodo couldn't help helplessly giggling again.

Before the hazy sun had a chance to climb much higher in the sky, they had completed the rest of the meal in a much more uneventful fashion and, dressed, were ready to leave. But as Sam was looking into the mirror, running a quick hand through his unruly curls, Frodo gave a last glance at the breakfast tray, and unobtrusively hid the butter pot under the bed. He, too, had developed a few specialties.

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It was only after they had left the room that Frodo remembered what he had wanted to show Sam yesterday. From the number of trays still outside the doors as they passed down the halls, it appeared that it would be awhile before most of the inhabitants of the Great Smials would be considering second breakfast, so Frodo gathered he had time. Clasping Sam's hand tightly, he made his way through the halls with the assurance of one who had spent a great deal of his youth here. Presently, they had made their way to the side of the smial, and out of doors into the kitchen garden, which was still deserted at this early hour of the morning.

The sky was now a soft opaque light grey, promising snow again before the morning was out. Frodo had been heading to the part of the yard that he, Merry and Pippin had seen the day before, when he suddenly stopped short, and drew Sam into a hidden brick alcove.

Sam looked at him with some surprise, but Frodo just smiled, and leaned into a lingering kiss. "Thank you, dearest," he murmured as they slowly broke apart.

"For what?" asked Sam, genuinely bewildered.

"For this morning. For making me so very happy, being in love with you," Frodo responded simply.

Sam gave him a rather sheepish smile at that response, and shook his head. "Naught to be thankin' me about," he murmured, caressing Frodo's cheek lightly.

"No, Sam, I insist I must thank you," Frodo replied determinedly, a certain mischievous glint appearing in his eyes, to Sam's mystification. "Perhaps a nap might be in order this afternoon." But before Sam could question him further, Frodo laughed, and taking his hand up again, they walked together out into the kitchen yard.

"That's it, Sam," Frodo bent down and brushed the snow from the small plant he had noticed yesterday.

"Well, 'tis kale, sure enough, but what'd it'd be doin' with pink leaves, I'd never know," Sam responded with interest, squatting down to join Frodo. "Doesn't that look that pretty now, a bit of color in the snow. You don't think Pippin's dad'd mind givin' you one of these, Frodo?" He glanced hopefully over to him.

"Of course not," Frodo chuckled. "You know, I rather doubt he'd have an inkling what I was talking about, not being much in the way of any plantings. It's mostly the ponies that Uncle Paladin cares about." Rising up, he blew on his fingers to warm them up and tucked them under his arms, but gave Sam a warm smile. "Uncle Paladin would be glad to give you any planting you wish, Sam dear. I think he likes you, you know."

Sam rose up as well, shaking his head a little skeptically at the idea, but beaming at the thought of acquiring some of the riches of the Great Smial. "I'd love to be havin' a bit of chat w'the gardeners here," he mentioned, giving Frodo a hopeful look.

"And I'm sure they would enjoy that every bit as much," Frodo laughed, tucking an arm under Sam's and starting back to the kitchen entrance. "I saw the look on the gardeners' faces at Brandy Hall when they found out you were Hamfast Gamgee's son."

Sam chuckled fondly at that, holding onto Frodo's arm quite unselfconsciously. "That'd be because Mr. Bilbo'd bring him by, every now and then. He did enjoy that, he did."

"Then we should be sure to…" but Frodo's thought was not completed, as a young hobbit lass swept by them suddenly, with an anxious and preoccupied expression.

"Oh, I'll never find it in all this snow," they heard her mutter, worry clear in her voice, as she passed, never giving them a look. Puzzled, they both stopped to watch, as she headed for the far corner of the garden, and kneeling heedlessly in the snow, began to brush it away from near the brick wall.

Frodo and Sam gave each other a quick glance, and then approached the frantic searcher. "Might we be of help, my lass?" Frodo asked kindly.

The tween gave a quick glance back, but seeing two well-dressed hobbits and not recognizing them, answered in a distracted manner, "Not unless you know what tansy looks like," and continued to search.

"Aye, that I do," Sam responded, and stepped forward to assist her.

She gave him a grateful look, but said no more until Sam uncovered the browned and frost bitten tops of a tansy plant under the snow. "Ah!" she cried in relief, and explained over her shoulder as she plucked them up. " 'Tis for little Lily Roundbarrel, the second cook's fauntling. Burning with the fever she is, and naught a bit of tansy in the storerooms. I never thought I'd be needing this much this winter."

"Would you be the healer, then?" Sam asked with interest, as they followed the young lass into the smial.

"Aye," she responded, rather breathlessly, " 'twas my mam afore me, and I wished I'd learned more, but she was taken suddenly this summer, and now…" but with that, she stopped short, and bowed to them at the great kitchen's entrance. "Thank you most kindly, good sirs, I certainly thank you for your help, and won't be bothering you now."

But as she turned around to leave, Sam suddenly said, "My sister'd be a healer as well. She's visiting along w'me. I know she'd be that happy to help, if you'd like."

The young lass turned at that, a grateful look on her face. "Oh, would she now?" she appreciatively asked.

"Aye, sure she would," Sam answered warmly. "Only," then he stopped short. "I'd have no idea where she'd be."

Frodo spoke up at that. "I wouldn't know either, but Pearl would, and I can find her. We'll have her meet you in the kitchen, then."

"Oh, bless you, sir," the young healer sighed, "I can't tell you how much that would put my mind at ease. I remember most, but not everything, and that Lily is the dearest…" And with another brisk nod of her head, she was through the kitchen door.

 

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It wasn't long before Frodo, Sam, and a still sleepy but dressed Pearl were at Daisy and May's door. Sam explained the situation as Daisy let Pearl and him in, Frodo politely waiting outside, and as he expected, she was throwing her dress over her chemise before he could finish explaining. "Oh, of course, the poor thing," she exclaimed, snatching up a piece of bread and an apple from their breakfast tray. "I remember how frightenin' it'd be not to be sure, and with a fauntling too…" She shook her head at that. "Of course, I wonder what manner of roots and dried potions they'd be havin' this way."

Sam quickly spoke up, hearing that. "I'd not mind comin' too, Daisy, and give you a bit of a hand w'that. Just let me tell Frodo." And he left the three lasses.

May was just beginning to actually wake up now, and sleepily blinked at her sister. "Should I come too, Daisy?" she asked, yawning widely.

"Oh, no, you go on and get more rest, if you like. I'll be meetin' you in the servant's hall for second breakfast, like as not."

"Not too sure I can find it," May rubbed her eyes.

"Well," Pearl mentioned with a slight grin, "Since I'll be taking Daisy and Sam back to the kitchen, that leaves cousin Frodo. I'm sure he won't mind."

May stopped rubbing and blinked again, rather owlishly, at the other two. "Oh," she said in a small voice.

"As a matter of fact," Pearl continued, her grin widening, "if you don't mind terribly, you may as well just go with Frodo down to the front room, where the family generally eats second breakfast. It would be lovely if you wouldn't mind letting my sisters know where I am. They really would love to have you, you know."

"Oh," May repeated, in a somewhat stronger voice this time. "I would hate to inconvenience Mr. Frodo, after all," she continued, with a sudden coy smile.

Daisy had been eying her with a sudden skepticism. " T'be sure, not," she muttered dryly. "Then best you dress yourself fast, May. "Twould never do to keep Mr. Frodo waiting in the hall for his breakfast."

"No worry on that," May chuckled, and she was out of bed with more alacrity than her sister had ever seen before.

So it was that Pearl Took led Daisy and Sam back to the kitchen, and a rather surprised Frodo graciously escorted May Gamgee to the front room of the Great Smials for second breakfast.

 

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Second breakfast had just begun when Frodo and May arrived, but Eglantine Took and her two younger daughters were already presiding over the table, and Paladin Took was firmly ensconced in the far corner of the hearth with a few of his comrades. Frodo escorted May to Pearl's sisters, leaving her with a bow, and went to where the male hobbits were beginning to gather around Paladin.

May, feeling surprisingly nervous but hiding it well, approached the younger two Took daughters, giving a curtsy, as they looked up from their mushrooms-and-toast, that was slight enough that it could be overlooked if desired. Pervinca, the youngest, blinked over the top of her spectacles and gave her a warm smile. "Hullo there, May," she gave her a nod, slightly lowering the book that she had been reading.

Pimpernel's head snapped up at Vinca's greeting. Her mouth was full, but she graciously indicated an empty seat next to her, and May sat down. She folded her hands in her lap, and crossed her furry ankles, and gazed over the delicacies laid out over the table, and half wished that she had settled for a breakfast in the servant's hall. Even after the last several years during which she had for the most part lived with her friends among the quality of Hobbiton, she was still unprepared for this level of magnificence. Vinca's face had disappeared behind the book again, and Nell shook her head. "Always at it," she mentioned wryly to May. "Nearly as bad as cousin Frodo. Have some fried toast," she pushed a plate toward her. "It's really quite good with the mushrooms. Sausage and tomatoes here, scones over there, tea of course, and perhaps some honey with your bread?" Clearly, Nell was a lass who enjoyed her meals, and May suddenly felt a bit more at home.

"Yes, thank you," she replied, and managed to gather a bit of everything on her plate.

"So." Nell paused in her chewing for a moment, giving May a cool look. "You'd be the sister of that lass that Pearl seemed to find so captivating this last spring."

"Erm. I suppose so." May answered, rather unsure as to how she should take that remark. "Miss Pearl stayed at Mr. Frodo's smial for a couple of weeks, seems like, and since Daisy does for them at times, 'twould seem she met your sister."

"Them," Nell repeated thoughtfully, and May suddenly found her eggs of the greatest of interest. "Cousin Frodo, and…?" she raised an eyebrow.

May considered for the briefest of moments of pretending that she had misunderstood Nell, before her well-entrenched Gamgee streak of stubbornness won out. "Mr. Frodo and my brother, Sam," she declared, her chin unconsciously lifting up proudly. "They live together at Bag End."

Nell surveyed her for a moment without a word. "Well done," she then stated softly, the side of her mouth crooking up. "I had rather gathered that from Pearl's letters." She turned her attention back to the toast and continued to chew awhile in silence. "Don't you find that odd?" she asked abruptly, giving May a sudden penetrating glance.

May looked up from the cup of tea to which she had just finished adding an inordinate amount of honey, and shrugged. " 'Twas a time I did," she confessed. "But now it just seems right, I suppose. I've never seen Sam any happier, nor Mr. Frodo either, for that matter. So I'd not be the one to say aught about it."

Nell did not respond to this, but continued to dispatch her breakfast, and eye May thoughtfully. "How do you get your hair to curl so?" she asked suddenly.

May gave her an amused look at that. "Rags," she replied succinctly.

Nell cocked an eyebrow again. "Show me?" she asked hopefully.

May grinned at her. "Aye, t'be sure I will," she answered. "But breakfast first." And it was only then that she remembered to convey Pearl's message.

 

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Frodo found that the topic was the weather, when he joined the others about Uncle Paladin. Oddly enough, even though he was now a landowner of sorts, this had been a topic that he had rarely considered, until Sam had come to live with him. It was since then that he had come to realize that the amount of rain, when it fell, and how hard, had such a central part to play in Sam's life, and indeed, the life of anyone who worked the land. The cycle of seasons had begun to open their mysteries to him under Sam's patient but unknowing tutelage, for Sam never considered that there were areas of knowledge that had been unknown to Frodo. Many had been the quiet conversations over the kitchen table, as Sam cooled off a bit over lunch in the shady smial, on a hot summer's day, or as they watched the chill mist gradually hide the world outside on a damp autumn afternoon, sitting snugly inside, sipping tea, and quietly talking. Then Frodo had found that he only needed to ask a question or two, and Sam would open up, the learning that he had effortlessly absorbed all of his life from the gaffer, and from the very earth itself, transparent in his words. So now, when the question arose regarding the impact of the second exceptionally snowy winter in a row, and the spring drainage, and its effect upon the next year's crop, Frodo found that he did actually have an opinion on the matter, and was able to join in the conversation. Out of the corner of his eye, however, he thought that he detected a twinkle in Uncle Paladin's gaze behind the pipeweed smoke.

Such important topics as these were quickly set aside, however, upon the arrival into the front room of a rather bouncy Pippin and a yawning Merry. Nothing excited Pippin more than the company of his favorite cousins, and obviously feeling that Frodo's proper place was with him rather than the older hobbits, he had no compunction regarding linking his arm with Frodo's and attempting to draw him off. His father laughed indulgently at his son, and waved Frodo off.

"I'll talk to you about it later, Frodo," he chuckled. "Pip-lad's been mad with anticipation over your visit, and there'll be months to be considering what to do before it's likely to be done. Off with you then, lads."

A smiling Frodo put up no further resistance then to being pulled along by a grinning Pippin, with Merry following behind the two of them, chuckling. And it was well that he did so, for it was then that Bracegirdle, followed at a discreet distance by his servant, entered the front room, and immediately spotted Paladin Took. Bearing down upon the Thain, as several other guests spotted him and suddenly considered the scones at the farthest end of the table as being items of the greatest necessity, Bracegirdle found his path unimpeded, and lesser Tooks were cast away from Paladin Took in the wake of the Bracegirdle entrance. Paladin sighed, and mentally resolved to have it out, even now, at second breakfast, since apparently Bracegirdle had never learned that conducting business over a meal was impolite. There was no point in ruining tomorrow, the Yule Day itself. Today must be sacrificed, if needs be.

Frodo, Pippin, and Merry had been watching this drama from safely down the table, where they had settled with full plates and their own pot. "Watch this, now," Pippin indicated the Bracegirdle with his fork, upon which a plump sausage was wiggling. "This ought to be fun. Dad told me that he isn't about to sell him those ponies. He said anyone who treats a servant the way he does doesn't deserve to have Took ponies."

Frodo and Merry began watching the scene with increased interest. Bracegirdle was speaking to Paladin Took with animation and a great air of bonhomie, but Paladin was watching him with crossed arms over his chest, great clouds of pipeweed smoke issuing from his pipe, and not a word. Then finally he removed the pipe, and answered, briefly. The response did not appear to be to Bracegirdle's satisfaction, and he launched off again on a rather long-winded argument, his face becoming rosier by the moment. Paladin's final response was briefer yet, and obviously negative.

With a growl that could be heard where the three sat, Bracegirdle turned on his heels and strode from the room. There was a snarl directed at his servant as he passed him, and the servant, with the color noticeably draining from his face, followed him out of the room.

"Certainly wouldn't want to be in that poor sod's shoes," Merry muttered, shaking his head and reaching for more tomatoes.

Frodo couldn't help eyeing the older hobbit, as he left, with an expression of disgust. "Arrogant toad. That hobbit really sets me off for some reason," he confessed. "Even the first time I met him at the inn."

"I know why," Pippin gave him a quick canny glance from over the edge of his teacup. "It's the way he treats his servant, that's what it is. And now what's all this about Sam, Frodo? Why won't he sit with us here? Doesn't seem to bother him at Bag End. It just doesn't seem right with just the three of us any more."

Merry looked at Frodo as well, and valiantly nodded agreement. "Did you ask him about it last night, Frodo?"

Frodo sighed and looked down at his plate. The large room seemed all too noisy and crowded all of a sudden, and he thought wistfully of peaceful Bag End, where questions such as this seemed to have no place in their lives. He rose up, almost unconsciously, though his plate was still nearly full, and his cousins had only just begun their breakfasts. "I'll see you two later," he murmured, head down. "I think I'll just get some air."

Merry and Pippin instantly traded glances at that, and nearly as one, rose along with Frodo. "Stuffy, isn't it, Pip," remarked Merry in a conversational tone, prudently thrusting several apples in his pocket. "Bit of fresh air sounds good, just about now."

"Aye," Pippin agreed with a smile, "I know where we could go, I believe. Follow on, then." They threaded their way, completely unnoticed, out through the crowd that was still making its way sleepily on in.

 

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It was past the stables that Pippin headed, the other two silently in tow behind him. Even though there were mounds of snow on the ground, brown earth could still be seen beneath, and sprigs of dried unidentifiable grass. But there was a sharp bite to the gusts that had started swirling around them, and the air was thick and white about them. There was no doubt but there would be more snow falling before night.

"Um, Pip?" Merry questioned, wrapping his arms around himself as he followed the teen. "Fresh air is bracing and all, but I really don't think this is quite the day for a cross-country excursion."

Pippin laughed, and cheerily agreed. "But Frodo wanted air, so air he must have, even if it is nearly frozen air," he added impishly. "But don't worry, I do have a goal in mind, dragging the pair of you out here, and it isn't just to give you frostbite." They had reached a section of the fields where long waist-high rows, heaped over with snow and only the occasional barren stick poking out, lay on either side of the road. "There it is," Pippin pointed out, indicating a small building under the shelter of several lofty firs, "Come along, lads, nearly there now."

"Vineyards," Merry exclaimed suddenly, recognizing the snowy lumps. "The winepress, Pip?"

"Thought you'd guess, Merry," Pippin chuckled, pushing open the heavy wooden door to the shed. "Looks different in all this snow, doesn't it?"

The three hobbits entered the dark wooden shed, with the large vat hidden in the shadowy corner. On the far end was a stone hearth, and that's where Pippin headed. "Now, let's see, they usually keep it, oh, here!" he exclaimed triumphantly, producing a small metal box from atop the high beam mantel ledge "Tinder box," he explained, and bent down in front of the fireplace. "Left some dry wood here, too," came the sound of his voice, only slightly muffled, as he busied himself with the flint. And in no time, the wood caught, and the kindling blazed up, and there was quite a satisfactory fire lit.

All three stood closely together in front of it, rubbing their hands in the welcome warmth. Pippin caught Frodo's eye as he glanced curiously about. The light of the flames left the corners still in shadow, but he could now see the large wooden vat bound with its gleaming metal strips, and the tables and stools stacked neatly on the other side of the shed. "I don't know if you've ever been here, Frodo," Pippin smiled. "You're not about that often at harvest time, having the Hobbiton harvest and all to be fussing about."

"Actually, I was, once," Frodo replied, giving the ground a dubious inspection. "You and Merry lured me here one time years ago."

"Spiders!" crowed Merry suddenly, looking up from the apple that he had just bitten into. "You left in a bit of a hurry, as I remember."

Frodo grimaced at that memory as Pippin laughed, recollecting the event. "No worries, Frodo dear," he threw an arm around his cousin's shoulders. "No spiders in the snow. They go off somewhere, and grow nice and fat, so they can come back and torment you again come spring." Reassured by that, Frodo relaxed and sat cross-legged in front of the fire, his cousins following suit on either side of him, and Merry passed each of his cousins an apple.

They companionably munched in silence for a while, as the fire gradually warmed the shed, and they had stopped shivering. "Well, now," Merry said resolutely at last, tossing his core into the fire where it hissed and sputtered a bit. "Why is Sam so suddenly mindful of what he seems to think is his place?"

Frodo sighed, and tossing his well-bitten core in as well, rested his elbows on his knees, and his chin in his hands. "It has to do somewhat with his sisters being here, too. He's afraid any unkind remarks about our relationship might be directed at them, as well."

Pippin stopped in the midst of his relentless search for any edible bits of pulp remaining on the core of his apple. "But why should anyone make unkind remarks, anyway?" he asked, bewildered by the notion. "Surely it's your business and his. Who needs to remark on it, anyhow?"

"That's what I would have thought," Frodo replied, somewhat wistfully, "but the point of it is, someone already has. Bracegirdle." And out of the corner of his eye, he thought he detected a quick expression of relief wash across Merry's face.

"Bracegirdle?" Pippin snorted, a world of disdain in the one word. "And why should his opinion concern anyone? He probably has worse things to say about my father right now, and I doubt if anyone else will pay him any mind about that, either."

"If it only were just Bracegirdle," Frodo murmured softly, gazing at the flames, "it would mean nothing. But it seems that it isn't. There are those about Hobbiton that say the same, and some have many more listeners than Bracegirdle does. And the worst…" and at this, he lowered his head and paused for a moment before he could continue. "The worst is, I never thought to ask. Never considered it. It's been a couple of years now, and Sam has put up with it alone, for fear of upsetting me. I just never thought of it."

There was silence as the other two considered Frodo's words, but Pippin scooted a little closer to him, and Merry lay a reassuring hand on his knee.

"Sam doesn't want to be gentry," Frodo said suddenly, with a bit of an edge to his voice. "He wants to be my gardener, that's what makes him the happiest. He always wants to be doing something; he needs a purpose to each day. The garden gives him such joy, I would never, ever, take that from him. I still have to pay him of course; his family has always relied on the Baggins' income. And I can't tell you how often I have tried to give him a little more, for his family's sake, but neither he nor the gaffer will hear of it. He just wants to be treated the same as he's always been, to be the Bag End gardener, neither more nor less." He fell silent again, moodily studying his hands. The other two waited, patiently silent, for they knew he was not yet through.

"They say he lives with me for the riches I can give him, to make his life easier," Frodo muttered, and suddenly lifted his head, clenching his hands in his lap. "Oh, they're so wrong, so wrong," he suddenly cried out passionately. "If I had to make my bed in a ditch at the side of the road, he'd be with me. There could never be anyone more giving, with a more loving heart. Sometimes, I almost feel we'd be better off taking to the road as Bilbo did, but he has family, ties, and his heart is at Bag End and all that grows around it. And so here we stay."

There was no answer to this, and both cousins wrapped an arm each tightly around Frodo and held him close between them. Frodo grabbed hold of their hands and, clutching them closely, bowed his head. There was only silence for a while, until Merry suddenly lifted his head, and gently withdrawing his hand, reached out instead and turning Frodo's face toward him, spoke. "Don't feel too badly, Frodo," he said gently and sincerely, the smoky blue-grey eyes intense on Frodo's. "You've given Sam something as well. I may not know him as well as you, but it has always seemed to me that Sam needs someone he can love and devote himself to. And now he has you, and I don't think any of the rest of this really matters to him. You need to forgive yourself, Frodo, for surely Sam has never thought to blame you for anything."

Frodo stared back into Merry's gaze in silence for several moments as an unspoken bond was renewed between them. "Thank you, Merry, dear," Frodo then said softly, the slightest of smiles tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You are probably quite right."

Merry smiled back with his accustomed cockiness, only slightly altered by the trace of sadness in his eyes. "Of course I am, Frodo." Rousing himself and standing up, he glanced over at an unusually pensive Pippin. "It must be getting on elevensies, Pip. Let's not have the search party come out for us again, shall we?" He quickly kicked some ash onto the small fire, smothering it. Walking over to the doorway, he stuck his head out, waiting for the other two. "Look," he mentioned, gazing out thoughtfully. "it's begun to snow."

 

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Pearl Took sat quietly in the corner of the kitchen, watching as Daisy assisted the young healer, Violet. Violet was trying to steep some sort of tincture out of the dead and withered tansy leaves that she had been able to find, and Daisy was at her side, guiding and suggesting, in low comforting tones that were obviously settling the nervous young healer down. Sam stood at Daisy's side, helping with what he could, and ready to go out to search for other herbs upon Daisy's request.

It was the first time Pearl had seen this brother of Daisy's, who had apparently managed to break through her cousin Frodo's rather severe reserve. When she and Frodo had been younger, there was talk in both the Took and Brandybuck households of what an excellent match the two of them would make. As long as Frodo had lived at Brandy Hall, her Aunt Esme had been ever so gracious about always inviting her as well, whenever Pippin came to visit. And since Pippin lived to be Merry's shadow, and their indulgent parents could never deny their only son anything, those occasions were frequent. But somehow, without a word ever being spoken between the two of them on the matter, she and Frodo had amicably concluded that the wished-for event would never materialize. At first, she had suspected that if Frodo ever settled on anyone, it would be his cousin, Merry, for it was only in his company that she ever saw Frodo genuinely laugh, and relax his customary detachment from all that went on about him. But as the years went by, it appeared that was not to come about either, even though she had caught the unguarded look of desire, unnoticed by Frodo, on occasion in Merry's eyes. So when Frodo left Brandy Hall to live with Bilbo Baggins, she had concluded that he, too, was destined to live a bachelor's comfortably solitary life.

But obviously, she had not foreseen the gardener's son, nor, she suspected, had Frodo. She watched Sam now, next to Daisy in the shadowed light, in a quiet corner of the busy kitchen of the Great Smials. He did not favor Daisy that much in looks, having the more golden curls, and greener eyes of his other sister, May. He was also somewhat shorter, and his form was more rounded than that of his spare older sister. It was their manner, the quick yet sure movements, the air of calm patience, the soft and gentle tone in their voices that marked them as brother and sister. Lost in watching, never minding being forgotten for the time being, Pearl sat, engrossed in memories and dreams.

But finally, the tincture was finished, and with many a word of thanks and a grateful smile, Violet was off to administer it, but not without gaining a final promise from Daisy to spend a bit more time with her, before her departure for Hobbiton. As Sam stood watching her leave, Pearl could see that he was thinking of something else. Recollecting himself when there remained only the three of them, he approached Pearl, and with a slight respectful nod, asked if he might have a word with the gardeners of the Great Smials.

"Why, certainly, Sam," she nodded kindly in return, with a warm smile. "I've seen what you've done with Bag End, you know. Anything you would like to take with you, we'd be honored to let you have. Certainly you and Frodo should have something in return for the hospitality you gave me, even if you were unaware of it at the time."

Sam colored slightly at Pearl's words, but bravely gave her a steady gaze in return. "I'd be that grateful, Miss Pearl," he answered her sincerely. "There was something as I had in mind, if it not be too dear…"

"Anything, Sam," Pearl repeated firmly. "I'd be glad to take you to them now, if you like."

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

And then it was just Daisy with her. They threaded their way through the hallways toward the Gamgee sisters' room, for Daisy had barely had a chance to dress this morning, and hardly a bit of first breakfast, let alone second. But Pearl had snatched up one of the breakfast trays, that had come back to the kitchen untouched, and with a quick exchange of the teapot for a fresh one, was carrying it in front of her, as Daisy silently followed. The room had been tidied, as Pearl was grateful to find upon opening the door, and she laid the tray carefully down on the table.

"Thank you for helping Violet," she said quietly, straightening up and watching Daisy, who sat wearily down in one of the chairs before the fire. "She is so inexperienced, I know that she is very appreciative of any help you can give her."

Daisy nodded, her eyes drawn to the rekindled flames in the fireplace. "It's not an easy thing, trying to remember what you heard once, with no chance to ask again. And the cost if you'd be rememberin' wrong…" she shook her head sadly at that and continued to stare into the fire, her shoulders slumped, and her chin resting in her hand, propped up on the arm of the chair.

Pearl studied her quietly, and asked no more, for it was obviously not a happy memory. Instead she busied herself with the teapot, and let Daisy be. She poured a cup each for the both of them, and then turned back to Daisy. "No cream, and only a bit of honey, right, Daisy?"

Daisy looked back at her with a start, and gave her a grateful smile. "Ah, listen to me now, going off on the likes o'that. 'Twas a long time ago, and frettin' over it would never change a thing." She accepted the cup from Pearl, and drank the hot liquid thankfully.

"It was your mother who taught you, wasn't it?" Pearl prompted her, settling comfortably into the other chair next to her.

"Aye, but she just showed me what she knew, just what'd you'd know from raising a family o'fauntlings. I was to be a laundress, never a healer. But somehow, folk'd just kept comin' to me, and I'd learn a bit more, and now all of Hobbiton'd be thinkin' that I can cure the lot of them. Sometimes, that's a frightening thought."

"Hmm," Pearl was noncommittal, and placed her empty cup on the tray. "Well, it was a fine healer who took care of my arm, last spring." Pushing up the sleeve of her frock, she held out her arm toward Daisy.

Daisy put down her cup as well, and carefully held Pearl's arm. Gently running her fingers up it, she studied the skin, where the red burn mark had been so prominent. It had faded, and was now only faintly to be seen against the white skin.

"It's nearly gone," Pearl said softly. "But I'd rather it had stayed. Because when I look at it, I remember. Bag End, quiet and peaceful. The first time that I saw you, and startled you so. All the days we sat, in the kitchen. The hill behind Bag End, and the sun and the flowers. And you."

Daisy looked up into her eyes. "I wish you'd never left," she said longingly. "It's that hard now, t'get through the days. It's only me and the gaffer, May's gone most of the time." She looked back down at Pearl's arm, and lightly ran her finger down it once more. When she glanced back up at Pearl again, her eyes were full with unshed tears, and she continued in a halting voice. "I see both Mari and Sam, and they're that happy. And I think, why not me?"

Pearl rose up suddenly at Daisy's words, as if finally making a choice. Grasping Daisy's hands, she pulled her to her feet as well, and wrapped her arms around Daisy in a tight embrace. "Indeed," she murmured, raising a tender hand to the side of Daisy's face. "Why not us?" And with that she leaned forward and met Daisy's mouth in a tentative kiss.

With a forlorn moan, Daisy clutched Pearl closely to her and urgently returned her kiss, answering Pearl's question without words, the tears finally spilling down her face, and tasting of salt in both of their mouths. "No, don't cry, dearest," Pearl whispered, drawing away from Daisy for a moment, with a shaky smile, her own full eyes belying her words. "We will find a way, I promise you. If you want to, my love."

"Yes, oh, yes," Daisy breathed, running a hesitant hand through Pearl's unruly red curls. Pearl's smile deepened at Daisy's words, and she blinked her own tears away.

"Then that's what really matters," she answered, gently brushing Daisy's tear-dampened curls back from her face. "And right now, you are here with me again, and there is time for us."

 

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"See now?" May laughed over her shoulder to Nell, who was following behind. "I told you I'd be able to find it. Sam now, he's that hopeless, and even Daisy can get a bit befuddled. But I can remember my right from my left, and that's all it really takes, isn't it? Let me just be getting my rags and I'll show you what I mean." And she flung open the door to the guest room to find Pearl and Daisy on the bed locked in a tight embrace, clad only in a chemise, in Daisy's case, and rather less than that in Pearl's.

There was a silence in the room, and May's gaze shifted in her shock to the window, and a small corner of her mind noted dazedly that it had started to snow again. But then the sound of Nell's footsteps behind her spurred her into action, and without thinking why, she whirled out of the room, quickly closing the door behind her, and gaily laughed, "What a ninny I am! I just remembered that I'd left them at the inn by mistake. Well if we go to your room, I'm sure I could find something as would work just as well." And with a rapidly beating heart, and questions in her mind that she had never thought to ask, she led an unsuspecting Nell away.


	4. Chapter 4

Daisy and Pearl lay as frozen as they had been during May's sudden appearance, and just as sudden disappearance. Her voice was heard in the hall, gaily leading Nell off, and then there was silence. Daisy wondered, in a sort of a daze, exactly how her heart could manage to beat quite so loudly, as she lay on the bed, only partially covered by Pearl. Even if she had had the thought of denying appearances, the fact that Pearl was unclothed from the waist up was going to be difficult to get around. Daisy was, however, made of sterner stuff, and not much for deception in any case.

She heard Pearl give a shaky breath, as she rolled away from Daisy and sat up, leaning back against the low headboard. "Do you think May will say anything?" she asked, in a voice that was somewhere in between fear and excitement, as she rested an arm up on the wood, an easy unconsciously graceful sprawl of lithe limbs, small breasts, and creamy, generously freckled skin.

Daisy shook her head, sitting up as well. "Not 'til she's had a chance at me, first, she won't." With a sigh, she reached out to Pearl's other hand and took it in both her own, carefully studying the soft well-shaped hand between her own two, roughened and reddened from the hard work that was her lot. Her hands had once been as soft, but the years of boiling water and strong soap that were the fate of a laundress had changed that forever. She had known, when she came, that this was what she had hoped for, but she had never thought that there could be any hurt in it for Pearl. She had been wrong, and it was only luck, and fast thinking on the part of her sister, that had avoided that. "I should have let you be," she added softly, still staring at their hands.

"You came because I hoped you would," Pearl stated without hesitation, watching Daisy steadily.

Daisy sighed, and rising from the bed, walked over to the window, staring sightlessly at the swirling white without. "Not much sense in startin' something that we can't be finishin'," her voice was quiet but firm. "My place is back on the Row, with my da. He's more forgetful, these days. He can't be stayin' with Sam, and Mari'd have her hands full with her fauntlings. And May, well, one of these days, she'll be gone, to be sure."

She turned then, and regarded Pearl somberly. "And you're almost of age, Pearl. The eldest of the Took lasses. You'll not avoid bein' married much longer."

Pearl's back stiffened at that thought, and she sat up proudly on the bed. "I'll not be foisted off, like some prize breeding mare," she declared, with an unconscious toss of her head.

Daisy's face softened into a fond smile. " 'Twould be unlikely anyone would take you as such. But there'd be lads aplenty who'd love you for who you are, no mistake."

"But what if I don't love them back?" Pearl replied, standing up and walking over to Daisy. "What if the one I love is the lass who stands before me? What's the good of being a Took, then?"

"The risk'd be yours, Pearl," Daisy made one last attempt, holding onto Pearl's arms as Pearl began to embrace her.

"Fair enough," Pearl closed her eyes and met Daisy's mouth in a kiss. Drawing back, there was the ghost of a smile on her face as she added, "At the worst, they'll throw me out. And maybe, that would be at the best, not worst."

"Ah, Pearl," Daisy surrendered to Pearl's arms then, throwing her arms around Pearl's neck. "You're a brave one, my love."

"Hmm," Pearl gave a soft chuckle as she lightly brushed back the curls from Daisy's ear and gave the tip a loving fondle with her tongue. "I'd say more single-minded than brave."

But Daisy, who had never quite felt that particular sensation before, never heard the last words, as she had all she could manage to do to get the both of them back to the bed before her legs became completely useless underneath her.

 

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It was the crunch of footsteps in the snow, and Pippin's laugh, that made Sam turn around before he saw them. He had been chatting with the gardeners of the Great Smials, out in the snowy gardens, and had completely lost track of the time, when he heard the others approaching. But he stopped his conversation quickly, for this was not something he wanted Frodo to know of. Not quite yet.

And there were the cousins. His beloved Frodo, along with the future Master of Brandy Hall, as well as the future Took and Thain, all come to look for him. At times, that thought fair took his breath away, but then Frodo would smile at him with that warm, hungry glint in his eyes that was reserved for him alone, and he knew it was no dream.

"What did I tell you?" Frodo walked up to him, throwing an arm around his shoulders with a fond chuckle. "I knew this is where he'd be. And I suspect he hasn't even had lunch yet."

Pippin's eyes opened wide at that. "Sam," he declared in mock reproach. "What kind of hospitality do you think we'd be having here? No hobbit should ever miss a meal." Catching one of Sam's hands up in his, he tugged a laughing Sam in the direction of the kitchen.

"Not a bit of it!" Sam protested, "No need for that. I'd have already lunched with these fine…" and as he spun around to indicate the gardeners, he saw that they had already discreetly faded back into the smial. With a shrug, he turned back again to the others. The snow had settled down into a fine, although steady, falling and he saw there was already a frosting of white flakes in Frodo's dark curls. Sam almost stretched out a hand to brush them away, catching himself just in time, but the look in Frodo's eyes indicated that he knew what Sam had intended, and Frodo's smile deepened at Sam's neatly concealed impulse.

Pippin, in the meantime, had turned to see where Merry was. But even as he turned to Merry, whose back was, at that moment, to the other three, a quick gust blew by a small pear tree by the garden wall, and a frosty dollop of snow fell off and directly on to the back of Merry's neck.

"Hoy, there!" he cried out, and spinning around to the other three, quickly settled on a laughing Pippin as the likely culprit. He bent down, and in a quick motion, a handful of snow was hurtling in Pippin's direction. Pippin's eyebrows shot up at that challenge, and the game was on. But Pippin decided, nearly at once, if two in the game was good, three would be even better, and with a wicked chuckle, let fly a handful at Frodo as well.

Frodo gave a quick gasp, and then a peal of laughter, as he quickly joined forces with Merry in directing a volley of snow at the by now helplessly giggling Pippin. Sam stood by the wall watching the proceedings with a smile, and never saw Frodo deliberately letting a handful of snow sail past Pippin, landing squarely on his jacket sleeve. Starting up in surprise, he only hesitated a moment before grabbing up some of the snow at his feet, and returning the favor.

Frodo laughed again delightedly at Sam's retaliation, blue eyes sparkling over cold-reddened cheeks, and quickly tugged at Pippin's sleeve. "Youngest and oldest, Pip. I choose you. Prepare to defend yourselves, you two." Pippin let out a crow of delight, and a flurry of snowballs nearly immediately besieged Merry and Sam. With a quick glance at Merry, Sam silently indicated a soft snow bank behind a barberry hedge, and Merry gave a comprehending nod in return.

Almost instantly, they were behind the hedge and the soft snow was rapidly put to use. Pippin and Frodo valiantly held out in the face of the attack as long as possible, but their lack of cover, and Sam's deadly aim, soon had them routed.

"Truce! Truce!" Pippin called out, waving his arms over his head. Merry cautiously stuck his head up over the hedge and gave them a dubious look. "You think they're to be trusted, Sam?" he asked, warily.

"Only if you'd be seein' four hands in the air," Sam replied, still steadily forming snowballs as a precaution.

Merry studied their opponents suspiciously. But then, with a sudden chuckle, he declared, "Ah, there go Frodo's too. Too much for you, lads?" He triumphantly stepped out from behind the hedge with a grin, followed by a similarly grinning Sam.

"Well, it's just getting a bit chilly," Pippin responded nonchalantly, blowing into his cupped hands, "and I'd hate to be keeping an elderly hobbit like cousin Frodo here out in the cold."

"Admit it," laughed Merry. "The two of you had no chance. Where did you learn to throw like that, Sam?" he asked, turning to Sam with admiration. "I could hardly keep up with you at all."

"Sisters," admitted Sam, brushing the snow off of his knees.

Merry gave a smirk at that, and turned to Pippin. "Didn't do you much good now, did it?"

"Pearl does have a deadly arm," Pippin allowed reluctantly, brushing the snow from his jacket, "but why would she show her favorite target any pointers?"

Frodo, who had been watching this exchange with delight, suddenly gave an elaborate yawn. "You know," he casually mentioned, stretching his arms out behind him, "I must be getting as old as you say, Pippin. All this exercise and fresh air really has me sleepy suddenly. I think a nap would be just the thing."

Sam gave him a bewildered look at that statement. Frodo was not at all prone to naps. It wasn't until Frodo gave him a very direct look in passing, that he suddenly turned a rather rosy color, and unconsciously cleared his throat. "I'd be glad to lend you a hand, Mr. Frodo," he murmured, and quickly followed him toward the smial.

Pippin just barely heard Frodo mutter, "I certainly hope so, Sam," as they both disappeared, leaving the other two regarding each other with raised brows.

 

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Sam closed the door to their room behind them, and turned around with a smile of anticipation. "A nap, Frodo?" he shook his head incredulously. "An' since when would you be the nappin' sort?"

Frodo gave a rather breathless laugh to Sam's query, but with no further explanation, crossed the room over to the bed, and was immediately on all fours, looking under it. "Since never, I guess," he muttered, "but let them think what they will, I really didn't want to wait… Oh, blast. Don't tell me they actually cleaned the room."

Sam, who was beginning to realize that the addition to the bedpost that he had been eyeing in puzzlement was in fact the remains of Frodo's bread-and-butter from the morning's breakfast, chuckled. "Wouldn't think so."

"Well, then, where…" Frodo was beginning to sound distinctly exasperated as he continued to search. "Ah!" came the sudden triumphant cry, and with a flourish, he produced the concealed butter pot out from under the bed.

Sam's eyes widened at the sight of the crockery, and he gave a rather convulsive gulp. Turning quickly, he walked back over to the door, and with a sigh of relief, determined that, yes, the doors at the Great Smials did indeed have locks upon them. It was instantly put firmly in place.

"I told you I needed to thank you for this morning," Frodo's voice was becoming distinctly husky as he placed the pot on the table next to their bed, and glanced over to Sam.

"You can be thankin' me any time you'd like, Frodo-love," Sam answered, returning to the bed on which Frodo was sitting, and holding his hands out to him. "Whether I'd be deserving it or no."

Frodo smiled, and gave Sam's hands a gentle tug. "And can I be thanking you any way I like, as well?"

Sam gazed down at those blue eyes, dancing with mischief, and nodded, not trusting his voice.

"Good," Frodo's smile deepened. "And then you can begin by having a seat right here, Sam. You're entirely too far away."

Sam sat down next to Frodo, but as soon as he did so, there was a firm hand on his shoulder, pushing him down onto the bed, and there was another hand cradling his face, and Frodo's mouth was on his. "Ahhmm," Sam exclaimed happily, throwing his arms around Frodo's shoulders.

"Ah," he heard Frodo laugh at his enthusiastic response, and giving his ear tip a quick nibble in passing, Frodo sat back up next to him. "But I want to thank you, Sam. And I can't do it properly if you're thanking me back as well."

Sam gazed up at Frodo with a baffled look, but Frodo's expression was impish indeed, and that was always promising.

"Whatever you'd wish, me dear," he replied, trustingly, as Frodo laughed again, and gave him a quick kiss on his nose.

"I believe it'll be you doing the wishing," he heard Frodo mutter merrily, as he suddenly reached down to grasp Sam's legs and, with a swift movement, swung them and Sam around on the bed, so that Sam was lying stretched out over the blue coverlet. "Now, let's see," Frodo gave a quick glance upward and, pulling both of Sam's unresisting arms up over his head, placed them on the rung of the headboard.

"Now can you promise me, Sam," he eyed Sam, suddenly quite solemn, "that you can keep your hands there, no matter the provocation? Can you swear to that?"

Sam gave another unconscious gulp at that, his hands suddenly gripping the wood tightly, and his eyes widening as he stared back at Frodo. "Aye, I'll do my best," he breathed in a rather hoarse voice. When Frodo was in a fey mood like this, there was no telling, just no telling at all, and he had not forgotten the butter pot.

"I'll be taking that as a promise, Samwise," Frodo whispered, lightly running a finger down the side to Sam's face, "and I know how you are about promises." There was a light kiss upon Sam's forehead, and when he opened his eyes again, Frodo was on his knees on the bed next to him, looking down at him, suddenly quite serious. "You're so beautiful, Sam," he said quietly, and as Sam opened up his mouth to respond, Frodo quickly shook his head and lightly placed a finger over Sam's mouth. "No, I know you deny it, but you truly are. It's the quiet kind of beauty though, like green leaves in sunlight, or a quiet brook in a meadow, and you pay it no mind, until a sudden moment when you look, really look, at what has been before you all along. And then it takes your breath away, and you think, how beautiful, how perfectly beautiful."

Bending over Sam once again, he lightly kissed Sam's cheek, his eyelids as they closed, his mouth. "That's what you are for me, Sam," he murmured, stroking the side of Sam's face as he reopened his eyes, "you are my lovely Shire lad, and always will be, and all that is beautiful and dear about this Shire is in your eyes."

"Oh, Frodo," Sam breathed, his heart in the look he gave Frodo at his words.

Frodo gave a rather shaky smile then, and shook his head almost ruefully. "You're right, Sam love. Too many words." And his mouth was once again on Sam's, hungry and wanting, as Sam's yearningly opened to his. That cunning tongue of his, that could always find just the right spot to give Sam the shivers, was busy now, and Sam was finding it increasingly difficult to respond in just the right way, and still manage to keep himself from sweeping his arms around Frodo. But when, out of a highly distracted corner of his mind, he suddenly noticed the feel of clever fingers tugging at his garments, pulling them out of his trousers, and lightly, teasingly, running across the bare skin of his waist, well, it was becoming nigh on impossible, in Sam's rather befuddled opinion.

"Oh, Frodo, oh!" he gasped as Frodo finally drew his mouth away and smiled.

"I just want you to know," Frodo murmured, as one hand glided up over Sam's chest, under his shirt. "That I love the touch of your skin." And now both hands were quite occupied with the buttons of Sam's shirt, quickly undoing them and pushing the shirt to the side. Frodo's head bent down again, and Sam could feel that tongue busy over his chest, over those circles of darker rose, caressing over those nubs that made Sam jerk up and unconsciously writhe under Frodo's feathery teasing touch.

"Oh, Frodo, oh, what'd you be doin' to me, love?" he gasped, grabbing at the bed headboard with all his strength. But there was only a tantalizing laugh from Frodo, as he continued to bend his head down. All Sam could see now were those soft dark curls, but the tongue, ah, that tongue was still busy at work. Frodo's hands ran slowly up his sides in the meanwhile, the push against his skin strong and painstaking. "Oh, Frodo," he whispered, arching his back up. Promise or no, he couldn't help but feel that it was only a matter of time now before he would have no choice but to let go and grab Frodo, and pin him to the bed, if he kept this up. Then Frodo's hands were gone for a moment, although the tongue was still busy teasing and tormenting, and Sam's eyes closed as he squirmed breathlessly under that highly skilled touch.

The mouth was suddenly withdrawn, and Frodo sat up again with a smile, and Sam gasped, trying to regain his breath. Somehow, Frodo's shirt had managed to come undone too, but he seemed unaware of it, as his hand slowly descended Sam's side, and now, roaming further down, encountered Sam's trousers precisely where they bulged up so. "Ah, Frodo!" Sam moaned again at that experienced touch, stroking with just the right amount of pressure. "You'd best be takin' them off and soon. I've only the one pair w'me."

Frodo laughed at his words, and gave Sam a quick nibble on his earlobe. "My ever-practical Sam-love," he murmured fondly, but his hands were indeed on the fastenings, and soon enough, Sam felt his trousers slowly being pulled off. And then Frodo's hands were on him, encircling and stroking, with a touch both gentle and demanding, and Sam closed his eyes, losing himself in the sensation of the moment, and only hazily realizing that if there was something that Frodo wanted to be doing with that butter, it'd best be done quickly.

Frodo, however, seemed to have come to a similar conclusion, for there was a moment's pause, during which Sam, with a moan of protest, blinked his dazed eyes open again, only to behold Frodo hastily undoing and casting away his own trousers, followed by the sumptuous sensation of the butter lavishly being put to good use on him. With a smoldering look in his blue eyes, that almost ended the whole proceedings for Sam right then and there, Frodo lifted himself over and straddled Sam, with his knees on either side of Sam's chest. With a heated moan of "Sam," Frodo's mouth was suddenly fiercely on his, and he could feel Frodo's hand reaching back for guidance. He was abruptly aware of Frodo slowly starting to enclose him, pushing steadily downward, and his gasp was lost in Frodo's mouth.

And it was Frodo's expression that held him, as Frodo suddenly lifted his head, and arching his back, slid tightly down on him. No matter how compelling the sweet force with which he was held, ground down upon, gripped with a wonderfully aching firmness, it was Frodo's face of which he was most aware, dark blue eyes half closed and scarcely visible under full dark lashes, dusky curls stuck against the luminous ivory forehead and reddened cheeks, and that glorious mouth half-opened with gratification. With a choked groan, Sam heaved his body upwards over and over, Frodo meeting every movement of his with skill, fervor, and a complete lack of inhibition. But Sam finally had to abandon himself to the inevitable, uncontrollable, concession of giving himself to this dear one he loved so, and he arched up a final time, stiffening with a hoarse cry. With a final gasped moan, Frodo's head fell forward and he shook as he followed Sam. He pulled himself reluctantly from Sam, with a last sigh, and collapsed onto his chest.

Frodo's damp curls, and his forehead were what Sam kissed, once he had enough breath, and Frodo raised his head to smile at him wearily, but triumphantly. It was only then that his eyes widened, and he exclaimed, with remorse, "Oh, your hands, Sam! Really, you can put them down. I didn't think you actually could…"

But Sam only looked tenderly back at him, and although unclamping his hands from the bed frame where they had seemingly become attached was initially rather difficult, he brought them down and around Frodo. "Whatever you fancy, Frodo-love. You just go on thankin' me like that, dearest." There were tingles running through his arms, true enough, as the blood began to circulate through them again, but there were tingles elsewhere that Sam was far more of a mind to savor.

Drowsily, he glanced toward the window, and the increasing white flurries drifting past the glass. Returning his gaze tenderly back down at Frodo's face, whose eyes were already beginning to blink shut, he smiled again, with a deep contentment. "Just a minute, love," he murmured, rolling the both of them to the side momentarily, so he could grab a blanket up from under them. Frodo sighed sleepily, and then curled closer to Sam under the warm blanket covering them both. "I think that nap as you'd mentioned would be just the thing, me dear."

Frodo smiled, eyes still closed, and gave Sam a light kiss right under his ear. "You have such good ideas, Sam," he whispered, throwing an arm around Sam's shoulder. "That must be why I love you so."

 

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Nell glanced into the crowded hall with surprise. "Why, I never knew," she exclaimed.

May nodded her head, with a pleased smile. "Aye," she declared happily. "Dancing."

She had brought Nell down to the servants' hall that afternoon partially to prove to her that, yes, there was dancing and music to be found, partially as an excuse to become involved in that activity again, but also to distract herself from the confusion of thoughts that it was taking all her will not to examine. Daisy, she was quite certain, would not be coming, and that was probably all to the good, for the time being. It would be soon enough, come nightfall, to face her sister, and ask questions. But for now, all she wanted to do was lose herself in the dancing.

Nell was, of course, instantly recognized, but by silent general consent, the occupants of the hall agreed to treat her, although not one of their own, as a welcome visitor. May had no lack of invitations to step out, since her enthusiasm and skill had been noticed the day before, but she stayed close to Nell, and it was clear that if one lass was wanted on the floor, the other best be invited as well. Fortunately, all three of the Took lasses were well-liked, and after the initial surprise, several of the more well-to-do farmers of Tuckborough, who were staying at the Great Smials for the holiday, took the liberty of asking Miss Pimpernel to step through a reel or two with them, if she didn't mind. Of course, she didn't mind in the least, and was soon floating through the turns and twining her way through the dancers with every bit as much glee as May, her reddish curls, in their fashionable new array, bouncing gaily behind her.

May, as much as she was enjoying herself though, had been keeping an eye out for her partner from the day before. He was not in the hall when she and Nell had first arrived, but in the midst of the first lasses-only line dance, she noticed Lar's quiet entrance. He seemed a little distracted, at first glance, and even holding himself a bit stiffly, but it was difficult to tell from the brief glimpses she got of him through the other dancers.

As soon as the figure had finished, and the musicians took a few moments to refresh themselves with tea and beer, she made her way over to the young hobbit and greeted him with a smile. "Your master certainly keeps you busy," she said to him merrily. "I'd almost thought you'd forgotten the way back here."

"That he does," Lar answered quietly, without a smile, but then seemingly shook himself, and gave a polite bow to May. "But here I am, now, and nothing would make me happier, then you giving me the pleasure of this dance."

"Well, now," May laughed charmingly, holding her hands out to him. "You'd have a golden tongue, sure enough. How could I ever say no?"

"I suspect you don't say no to many dancing partners," Lar gave her a warm smile, grasping her hands and drawing her out into the dancers, as the musicians struck up a new tune.

"Not to one who asks as prettily as you," May gave a breathless giggle, before she was swept up by Lar, into the melody and the infectious swirl of dancers.

 

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Daisy hazily yawned, blinked, and stretched a bit. No doubt the dancing in the servants' hall had already begun. May would be there, certainly. Resolutely, she closed her eyes again at that thought. What she would say to May, she had no idea, it really wasn't something that she wanted to contemplate just yet.

She turned and snuggled a little more into the warmth of the bed, and her sleeping partner. Odd, she thought, an unconscious smile briefly touching her face. To be nearly of age, and yet as innocent of what her body could do, as the greenest of tweens. Well, it had been an enlightening afternoon, no mistake, and there was no question in her heart as to whether or not it should be the last such. Somehow, they would, and must, find a way. But there would be time later to consider such things, now was the time to lay a gentle hand on the soft skin beside her, and let their legs entwine, and to let that delicious lassitude lull her back to sleep again.

 

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"There you are, dear boy." Esme Brandybuck's clear tones were unmistakable. "I've hardly seen a bit of you for days, it seems like."

Merry glanced wistfully over to where Paladin had steered Pippin into a knot of elder Tooks, but turned stoically back to his mother with only an internal sigh. "Tea, mother?" he asked politely, seating himself on a stool near the chaise in the center of the room, where she had, as usual, ensconced herself.

"Oh, I don't mind," she murmured vaguely, giving a not-too-well disguised glance about the sitting room. Having satisfied herself with who was, and was not present, she took the cup Merry offered her with a short nod.

"I see Frodo has not managed to find his way here once again," she pointed out with a crisp laugh and a sip of her tea.

Merry, who had just poured his own cup, froze in the act of placing the pot back of the small side table.

"Probably taking tea down in the servants' hall, with that little friend of his," she continued mildly, still observing the rest of the room sharply. "Just as well, I suppose. A far better plan than trying to bring him in here."

Merry placed his untouched cup down on the table without a word, and started to rise, his mouth tightly shut.

"Oh, sit down, Meriadoc," his mother turned to him with an arch laugh. "I'm not insulting your cousin, now am I? Just merely pointing out facts. I'm glad to see that Frodo has some sense of discretion left to him, that's all. Although it certainly was not much in evidence the night before, at dinner."

"Mother, I am not going to discuss this," Merry replied tersely, his face beginning to flush. "And now, if you would excuse me…"

"No, I will not," Esme studied her son's face intently, her eyes suddenly dangerous, and her voice lowered. "It's bad enough that everyone knows Frodo Baggins was raised at Brandy Hall. This infatuation with his gardener is degrading enough to us as it is. The lad's clearly still a tween, and appears to be dim enough to assume that his Master's attentions actually mean something. But at least there is Bilbo's influence to point to, and most folk'd believe anything of him."

Merry's face betrayed his disgust at her words, but he held his tongue until she was through, before he quite coolly replied, "I am more than aware of your opinions, Mother. May I go now, then?"

"No. Because Frodo is really no longer my concern. You are, Meriadoc," she took another sip, and then looked bluntly at him over her cup. "Let me remind you of a fact of which you appear to be losing sight. Your cousin may seem wonderfully romantic to you. Don't deny it," she added impatiently, as Merry started to speak. "You've been infatuated with Frodo Baggins since you were a fauntling, and lately it's done nothing but get worse. The only saving grace of this whole mess is at least it's kept him from turning those eyes of his on you. But I'll not have him putting ideas in your head that you can get away with the same. You are the future Master of Brandy Hall, and you will be getting married, and you will be responsible for producing an heir."

Merry, breathing hard, had to pause for a moment before he could trust himself to reply. "I know my duties, Mother," he finally bit off the words, as the chatter in the room continued obliviously about them.

With a cool glance of contempt, she looked over to where Saradoc was standing in amiable conversation with Paladin, who was standing with his arm fondly around Pippin's shoulders. "As do I. I can only be grateful that I was able to produce an heir on the first occasion, and didn't have to go through three other squalling fauntlings first, as did the unfortunate Lana."

It was at that moment that Bracegirdle chose to make his appearance, and she gazed over to him with a look of relief. "Ah, a welcome voice of reason," she got gracefully up, preparing to greet him, while Merry still stared at her in shock.

But she turned quickly around once more, to him, before leaving. "Just one last word of advice, Merry dear," she mentioned in icy tones. "Peregrin is still a teenager. I trust you'll not be forgetting that fact."

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

The massive Great Hall was well crowded that night, for it was Yule Eve. As one of the most ancient, if not the most ancient, families of the Shire, the Tooks tended to uphold the old customs and ways from before hobbits had made their way west to the Shire. And one of these customs, and an eminently practical one, was that Yule should be celebrated upon its Eve, leaving Yule Day itself for the celebrants to spend as they saw fit, and recover in time to be off again the following day.

So it was that the feast this evening was truly of a staggering magnificence. All the fireplaces in the Hall roared merrily, warming, for once, the farthest limits of the Hall. Even the small nesting birds that normally lived undisturbed in the cavernous upper reaches, flying in and out of the chimneys that were rarely put to use at the distant ends of the Hall, blinked awake at the commotion below. Their Yule feast would come later, for no one would be expected to tidy the Hall this night.

The Hall was filled this frosty evening with not only all of the folk of the Great Smials and neighboring lands, only excepting the kitchen staff, who were still labouring mightily on their night of glory, but also as many Tooks, Brandybucks, Baggins, Boffins, Bolgers, and other far-flung descendants of the Old Took, as had been able to make their way here. For whatever the general opinions of the Shire folk were regarding the Tooks and their suspected taint of faerie, as well as their capacity for the unexpected, none could deny that no one did Yule quite as well as they.

Frodo and Sam stood toward the back wall near the entrance, unnoticed in the flurry of arriving guests. The smell of damp earth, for the ancient hard-packed walls of the Hall had never been covered, was soothing to a nervous Sam, and even Frodo, who had not been here for Yule for some years now, had nearly forgotten how almost intimidating a crowd like this could be. He reached for Sam's hand, and unobtrusively held it clasped firmly at his side. "We need to find your sisters, Sam," he murmured. "The families need to sit together, at least at the beginning, for the toasting of the Names. Keep your eye open for them."

Sam turned to him then in puzzlement, tightening his grip just a bit, but also distractedly admiring the effect of the torchlight on Frodo's damp curls. They had managed to find an unoccupied bath room, and had taken a surreptitious dual bath, that had nearly caused them to arrive unconscionably late. Frodo turned to him, though, with a smile. "Nothing to worry yourself about, love," he assured him fondly. "Just raise your glass at the appropriate time, that's all. I'll be with you, never fear. There may, indeed, be other Baggins here, but none that I know by sight. They're on their own, I'm afraid."

Sam nodded then, although with still a small amount of trepidation, and searched the crowd for the sight of May or Daisy. "There'd be May," he noted suddenly, pointing to where the two younger Took sisters stood beside a side table near the center hearth. There were several other young lasses in a crowd about them, all gaily chatting and giggling, and boldly glancing at a cluster of young lads who, gathered near another table laden with beer and wine, were shifting awkwardly and uneasily and all too aware of the scrutiny. And in the midst of it all, laughing happily, was May. Sam had to admit, as he watched her from the other side of the Hall, that she did not look at all amiss here, and had to stifle a quick guilty regret, that she was still bound to Bagshot Row.

Frodo had also spotted her though, and let go of Sam's hand and grasped his elbow instead, as he steered the both of them through the throng towards her. "We'll be able to sit where we like later on, Sam," he gave him a quick warm glance. "It won't be so bad."

But Paladin and Eglantine Took had entered the Hall just then, and immediately the guests dropped their conversations and began sorting themselves out, seating themselves by family up and down the long massive table. Bottles of wine, the finest obtainable, were opened by the score, and distributed up and down the table, glowing ruddy in the candlelight. Sam cast a glance over to the doorway just in time to see Daisy arrive in the company of Pearl Took. Pearl had obviously been educating her in the proceedings, for Daisy was nodding at her words, and smiling. Pearl left Daisy then next to Sam and Frodo, with a lingering look, and then turned to take her place at the center of the table with the rest of her family. Just then, May came up to join them, and Sam couldn't help but notice the look, almost a glare, that she gave Daisy as she sat down on the other side of Frodo and him. Daisy seemed unperturbed though, and looked about her with a rather dreamy smile. Sam mentally shook his head at that exchange, and said nothing. He had learned, long ago, to let his sisters sort things out on their own. He usually never understood what it was all about anyways, and had long since concluded that there'd be no point to try.

A few moments after the Tooks had found their seats, Paladin Took rose to his feet and held his goblet up high. A sudden hush fell over the Hall, and only the crackling from the fires could be heard. "To all our family and friends who are gathered here on this Yule-Eve," his voice rang out. "To my dearest wife, and my beloved children," he added, with a warm bow, as they all beamed back up at him. "May this next year be a glorious and prosperous one for us all. May happiness and comfort find each and every one of us."

A veritable roar greeted these words as all seated cheered their approval, and raising the glasses likewise, drank a swallow of wine, setting their glasses down again. And now a rustle of excitement and anticipation stirred through the great room, and voices could be heard, eagerly urging the Took and Thain on. "The Names, the Names!"

Paladin gave a pleased smile at that and raised his goblet high once more. "Tooks!" he roared out. And with an answering cry, nearly half of those seated stood, glasses aloft. "Good-Yule to you all, Tooks!"

With a mighty cry, the host of Tooks present raised their glasses and with a yell of "Good-Yule!" drained the wine, and sitting back down, let their goblets fall to the table with a mighty thump, as those seated cheered them on.

"Brandybucks!" Paladin called out next, and the sizeable contingent of Brandybucks rose, the Master of Brandy Hall and his family among them. "Good-Yule to you all, Brandybucks!" And there was another mighty cheer as the Brandybucks responded in kind.

Sam watched the proceedings with amazement as the Thain continued on through the Bolgers and the Boffins. "Baggins are next," Frodo whispered to him, his eyes sparkling. "Uncle Paladin always starts off in the same order. I wonder how many of us there are here."

Frodo was right. "Baggins!" came the next cry, and Frodo rose, catching sight of a few other risers farther down the table, and giving them a congenial nod. "Good-Yule to you all, Baggins!"

"Good-Yule!" Frodo gave the customary reply proudly and confidently, raising his goblet and draining it, to the cheers of the room, especially the younger contingent. Sitting down again, he glanced at Sam and laughed. "Probably should have mentioned to you not to put that much wine in. You do have to empty it, you know."

Sam gave a gasp as the implication of what Frodo was saying hit him. "Me, us?" his voice was nearly a squeak at that thought, and both of his sisters immediately turned to Frodo, alarm clear on their faces.

"He rarely misses a Name," Frodo was grinning broadly now, and if Sam hadn't have been so terrified, he might have enjoyed the sight more.

Frodo was right. It wasn't too long before an anxious Sam heard the call, "Gamgees!" ring out. Bravely, he stood up, with both of his sisters, and the three lifted their glasses high. "Good-Yule to you all, Gamgees!"

"Good-Yule," they responded boldly, to a hearty cheer of approval, for each of the three had already, in some manner, touched the lives of others at the Great Smials. They drained their glasses and sat back down.

Now that it was over, Sam's face was flush with a glow that did not entirely come from the wine. "Ah, now, if only the gaffer'd been seein' that," he whispered to Frodo. "The Gamgees, one of the Names."

"He would have been very proud to see the three of you, I know," Frodo murmured, giving Sam a warm hug. "We must make sure that he comes for Yule here himself the next time we do."

Sam smiled at the thought of it. "Aye, to be sure."

The Names were continuing on, and it seemed as though not a hobbit at the table, from the wealthiest to the most humble, had not been recognized. There was one, though, whose name had not been called, and at last Paladin could no longer postpone the inevitable. "Bracegirdles." he called out, with noticeably less enthusiasm. "Good-Yule to you all, Bracegirdles."

There was only one who stood at that, and the cheer at his response was rather perfunctory. Sam noticed then that, as on the previous evening, Lar was standing unobtrusively against the wall behind his master, the only one in the hall who did so. But Pippin, down at the center of the table, seated next to his father, caught his eye just then and grinned and tapped his nose.

And sure enough, there was one more name. "Hoarfeet!" the Name rang out. "Good-Yule to you all, Hoarfeet!"

There was a noticeable pause before Lar stepped uncertainly forward, the only representative of his Name here. "Good-Yule," he answered, rather hesitantly, and nodded in lieu of toasting the Hall. There was a far more enthusiastic cheer for him, and he stepped back to his place with a smile and his face flushed with pleasure.

May, however, was watching from her seat next to Frodo with some dismay. "That villain of a master of his is not going to be pleased one bit at that," she observed, with a frown on her face. Sam could no longer see Bracegirdle, but he had no doubts about the accuracy of May's comment. However, the call of the Names had come to an end, and the feasting thus began in earnest.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

Later in the evening, the feasters had started to move about and sit where they would, as they went about the rather lengthy process of filling up the corners. Those with sufficient stamina had begun on the afters, which had just been brought out by an exhausted but triumphant kitchen crew, as their final tribute to the festivities. Frodo had managed to maneuver himself and Sam to a somewhat deserted, rather shadowy, section of the Hall with a bottle upon which they were making rather good progress. Wine was usually not Sam's drink of choice, but he had to admit that, after the first couple of glasses went down, that the taste of the rest suddenly became far more to his liking.

And it was entertaining indeed, to watch the goings-on, as he leaned back against Frodo, with Frodo's arm firmly around his shoulders, and Frodo's amused commentary to educate him regarding his relatives, as well as Tookish customs. He had always known Frodo to have a keen wit as well as a perceptive eye for those around him, but he rarely got to hear it displayed to its full advantage, so it was a treat indeed for Sam to listen to him.

Further down the table, he could see that Merry had managed to move from the Brandybuck group to sit next to Pippin. Pippin was laughing at whatever Merry was telling him, and Sam noticed that Merry seemed far more relaxed than he had earlier that evening. Perhaps it was the wine that made him speak out so undiplomatically, but watching the two from afar, he couldn't help but observe to Frodo, "Mr. Merry'd be lookin' a lot happier than he did before. Why's he always so mad, Frodo? I thought it was just me, but now it'd seem like it's everyone. 'Cepting you and Pippin, of course."

Frodo gave a sigh at that, and tightened his grip around Sam slightly. "I know you think that Aunt Esme wasn't the most maternal of sorts for me to have grown up with, Sam," he said finally. "And you'd be quite right about that. The problem is, it wasn't just me." He watched his two cousins in silence for a moment more. "I know quite well what a blow it was to Merry when I left, but I really couldn't help it. Bilbo offered me an escape, and I took it, I'm afraid. I really don't think it would have worked out well for either of us if I had stayed. Merry would never believe that, but it's quite true. I can't tell you how glad I am for Pippin, though."

Taking another quick swallow from his glass, he turned to Sam then with a tender smile. "But if I hadn't, you wouldn't have been here with me now, and so I must have done the right thing after all." Leaning over, he gave Sam a swift kiss, and Sam couldn't help but agree. But as Frodo straightened up again, Sam happened to glance down the Hall, and found Lar's gaze upon them.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

After Sam and Frodo had excused themselves, May sat at the table, sopping up her plate with a piece of bread, and watching her sister out of the corner of her eye. Daisy, her face far more flushed than usual, was idly tracing patterns in a small puddle of water on the table, and smiling to herself. May was quite positive, although it was difficult to determine over the general clamor in the Hall, that Daisy was, in fact, humming to herself. Of course, there was no doubt as to the cause of this unlikely behavior, as far as May was concerned.

It would be best to have it out now, she suddenly decided, tossing the last crust in her mouth, rather than face Daisy alone in their room later. So moving closer to her sister on the bench, filling the gap the other two had left behind, she turned to face her sister with her hands crossed over her chest. "So, then?" she gave Daisy a stern look.

But Daisy just laughed, and continued to trace patterns in the water without looking at May. "You'd sound just like the Widow Rumble, May, dear," she chided her gaily, and quite unmistakably went back to humming.

May's eyebrow rose at Daisy's comment, feeling that this was a rather uncharacteristic lack of shame on Daisy's part. "You're not going to be explaining all that as I saw?" she asked incredulously.

"Well, I don't think there'd be a'that much explainin'," Daisy retorted cheerfully, turning toward her sister then with a smile. "I'd not be thinkin' you'd be that green."

Both May's eyebrows were up by now. Not only was there a distinct lack of shame on Daisy's part, there was quite a discernable lack of guilt as well. But it was then that the irony of the situation struck her. Daisy, her upstanding, severe, humorless older sister, was in love. With Pearl Took, no less. Quite suddenly, with some assistance from the wine it must be admitted, she fell into a fit of the giggles. Daisy glanced over to her, her mouth quirking up as well.

Endeavoring to pull herself together, May sat upright again. "You'd not be Sam," she admonished her sister, with a last attempt at good hobbit sense, "and there'd not be a Mr. Frodo nearby with a cozy, empty smial."

"Aye," her sister acknowledged, with an unmistakably sly grin. "But I'd be able to visit Pearl, an' da'd be none the wiser. He figured out Sam, sure enough, but he'd never guess that two lasses could be up to the same."

May had to laugh at that. "Ah, Daisy," she acknowledged, giving her sister a warm hug. "True enough, dearie."

Daisy grinned happily as she returned the hug, and then swallowed the rest of her wine and rose. "Don't be expectin' me back tonight, May-love."

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

Groups of hobbits had finally begun to drift out of the Great Hall when Frodo noticed Sam starting to nod off. "Wake up, Sam," he shook him gently with a smile. "I think we can make our farewells now. Bed is beginning to sound rather good, isn't it?"

Sam sat up suddenly, shaking his head a bit. "Aye, that stuff always knocks me out," he murmured apologetically. "Don't you be mindin' me, Frodo."

But Frodo shook his head firmly. "No, no need to stay any longer. Do you remember the way, then? You go on and I'll just pay my respects again to Uncle Paladin and be right behind you."

That did sound good to Sam, for the thought of bed, "An' just for sleepin', too," he reminded himself firmly, was proving irresistible. He slipped out of the Hall then, with a group of serving hobbits, including Lar. They hadn't gone too far, though, before the rest turned toward the servants' rooms, and only Sam and Lar continued on to the section of the smial where the gentle-hobbits' bedrooms lay.

By this time, Sam was concentrating on the turns more than anything else, so he was startled to hear Lar suddenly speak to him. "I wouldn't mind any of it so much," he heard Lar say softly, "if he were only just a bit kind every now and then."

Sam stopped short at that, staring at Lar in bewilderment. "Not mind what?" he asked sharply, looking intently at Lar's face for signs of scorn or contempt. But he relaxed his guard as he saw that Lar appeared wistful, more than anything else, and was not looking at him. Indeed, he appeared to be speaking more to himself than Sam, as they started to walk down the candlelit halls again.

"Your master, now," Lar continued, as if Sam had said nothing. "Certainly, he must be gentle. You're very fortunate." He turned in another direction than Sam's then, and left Sam staring after him.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

Frodo was not long after Sam in arriving at their bedroom, and Sam greeted him with a warm hug, more to shake off the odd feeling with which the encounter with Lar had left him, than anything else. But Frodo was not at all loath to be on the receiving end of such a greeting, and returned it with a laugh. Pulling apart slightly from Sam, he rested his forehead against Sam's, and touched his nose with his own. "Sam, love, you may be indefatigable, but I, as Pippin so accurately observed, am an elderly hobbit. And when I mentioned bed, sleep was rather what I had in mind."

Sam might still have been a bit befuddled, but he still knew a good thing when he saw it, and tilting his head just slightly, met Frodo's lips with his own.

"Mmm, Sam," was Frodo's observation on this feint of Sam's, and it was several moments before he broke away. "Really, Sam, I mean it," he protested laughingly.

"Don' want to sleep," Sam demurred, before leaning forward again. However, his plan was foiled by the unexpected appearance of a hiccup. Sam's eyes widened at the sound and he was clearly at a loss to determine from which one of them it had escaped.

But Frodo was at no such loss. "Sam, you're swizzled," he laughed in fond delight, and grasping his arms, pulled him a little closer to the bed. "You need sleep just as much as I, or you'll be regretting it tomorrow."

"Am not," Sam automatically protested, but the effect was rather ruined by the second hiccup.

Frodo shook his head at Sam's denial. "Come here, love," he said fondly, beginning to unbutton Sam's weskit. Sam stood still then, and closed his eyes dreamily as Frodo continued, after slipping the weskit off of his shoulders, on the shirt buttons as well, only the occasional hiccup escaping him.

But when the final button was undone, he opened his eyes again, slipping his hands under Frodo's jacket, and said with a rather studied firmness, "You too, Frodo-love." Slowly, he pulled Frodo's jacket off, his hands almost reverential on the dark blue velvet. "Your color, me dear," he said softly. "It'd be hard to believe there'd be aught as could make you more beautiful, but..." His voice trailed off as he turned to the buttons of the weskit and shirt, his task made somewhat more difficult by the feel of Frodo's fingers stoking through his hair, but it was finally accomplished, and those garments slid to the floor as well.

"Your hiccups are gone, Sam dear," Frodo noted with a quiet smile as Sam's hands began on the fastening of his trousers.

"Aye," Sam agreed, with a wry smile. "All a matter of being distracted, I suppose." And with that, the last garment fell to the floor, and Frodo stood naked before him.

"You too, me dear," Frodo laughed softly at the look on Sam's face, and took prompt care of Sam's remaining article of clothing. Gently pushing Sam back against the bed, he reached out and pinched the candle by the bed that had been lighting the room, and crawled up onto the bed beside Sam.

With a hum of pleasure, Sam rolled over Frodo and propping himself up on his elbows, looked down at him inquiringly in the dim light of the smoldering fire. Frodo chuckled warmly, and threw his arms around Sam's neck. "You're right, Sam," he whispered. "Sleep is overrated, at that."

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

Daisy couldn't help it. Pearl's light, feathery touches across her stomach revealed to her something she had never suspected, that she was wildly ticklish. With a veritable squeal, she curled herself up as Pearl laughed in delight. "Oh, dearie, oh, what'd you be doing?" she gasped, giggling all the while.

"Daisy, love," Pearl declared with glee, pinning her down again and staring down at her with a smile. "I do believe you're swozzled."

Daisy grinned back up at her. "I do believe I am," she agreed complacently. "Don't let that stop you, me dear."

"Right, then." Pearl needed no further encouragement than that, and further exploration past the ticklish zone quickly drove all other thoughts from Daisy's mind.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

May returned to her room quite late, and peered in cautiously. But Daisy's prediction had been correct, and it was empty. With a small sigh, she plopped herself on the bed and stared musingly into the flames. But then a thought suddenly struck her, and she turned to the nearby door with a grin.

In less than ten minutes, she was comfortably submerged in glorious warm water, as she sang gaily to herself in the candlelight, and twirled the soapy curls on her sturdy foot.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

Much later that night, Lar quietly backed out of his master's room into the darkened hall. Fortunately, he did have a good sense of direction, and would be able to make his way back to the visiting servants' communal room in the dark. In the silence, he wearily rested his head against the wall for a moment, and tried to ignore the ache and pain. But it was only for the moment. Straightening himself up stoically, he noiselessly left.


	5. Chapter 5

Sam carefully lifted Frodo's hand, from where it lay across his chest, and laying it back down on the coverlet, swung his legs to the side of the bed. Frodo's steady breathing quickened for a moment, but then settled back into an even pace. Fondly, Sam gazed down at the tousled dark curls, the luxurious dark lashes highlighted against the pale cheek, the slender yet strong arm now over the coverlet, and listened to the steady light snore. For as much as Frodo might deny it, Sam knew full well that that regular sound could be called nothing but. As tempting as that warm and persuasive body was though, there was something that had been nagging at Sam, and he needed to consider it. And it wasn't too likely that he'd be considering anything but Frodo, as long as he stayed abed. Noiselessly, he walked to the window, and gazed unseeingly out at the hazy obliquely lit world without.

It was Lar, and it wasn't, that had him disturbed. For the first time, last night, he had suddenly realized the predicament that Lar was probably in. But what bothered him even more, he had to admit to himself, was Lar's implication that he was in a similar situation, only differentiated by a kinder master. It was as if those words, those looks, which floated about him in Hobbiton, had been abruptly and unequivocally directed at him. And now it was suddenly a matter that he could not avoid facing. He had been made unexpectedly aware of the manner in which others saw him, and he realized that he had never really faced the appearance of his situation before.

But once he considered Bracegirdle and his servant, and the gap in his own life between the reality of what truly was, and the assumptions of what was thought, the errors of those assumptions were quite clear to him. For, of course, it wasn't the same at all, no matter the impression others might have. There had never been any sort of demand from Frodo, never any asking for what had not been already freely given, and there had never been any gain in it for Sam himself, except in the way of something for which there could be no price, Frodo's heart. Turning, he walked back to their bed, and stared down at Frodo. He had to admit, that not only was there little worldly benefit to him, but there was much in the way of loss, to his name and his standing within the small world of Hobbiton. And, of course, it never had mattered, and never would. His heart had been given to the hobbit who lay asleep before him, and all the mornings of the world would pass away before that could ever change. His will, and his life had been set, and now lay before him in paths that he had once never dreamed of. Even though he was still a tween and, some would say, too young to yet know his mind, he had no doubt that he would ever want to change any of this.

However, his bare skin was beginning to feel the chill of the early morning air, and the warm place next to Frodo was too tempting. He'd have to worry about Lar later. Carefully, he lifted the blanket, and slipped in next to Frodo. With a gentle sigh and a sleepy murmur, Frodo turned, in his sleep, to Sam, and wrapped an unconscious arm tightly about him, his leg reaching up and winding about Sam's. Sam smiled tenderly at that, and folding Frodo gently into his embrace, fell thankfully back into sleep once again.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

It was an insistent knock on their door that awoke Frodo. At first, it seemed as if it was the gentle tap to let them know that the first breakfast tray was without, in the hall. But the knock repeated itself, and Frodo groggily became aware that either the staff had become somewhat adamant that their warm meals be properly appreciated, or it was someone else. The third time decided it, and Frodo rose from their cozy bed with an annoyed yawn, as Sam continued to sleep soundly. Blearily glancing around the room for something to wrap himself in, his eye fell upon his cloak, carelessly tossed over one of the chairs, and it was swathed in this, that he answered the door.

It was Merry in the doorway, completely dressed, as if for traveling. "Oh," he murmured, looking rather disconcerted. "I didn't think…"

Frodo smiled drowsily at his cousin's consternation, running a hand through his own wayward curls. "I suppose we are running rather late this morning, after all. I'd ask you in, but Sam's still asleep," he added, motioning toward the bed, where indeed Sam was only half-covered and rather sprawled, breathing quite steadily and obviously sound asleep.

"Oh," Merry repeated, just a trifle uncomfortably. "I just wanted to let you know that we're getting ready to leave, and I wanted to say good-bye."

"So soon?" Frodo asked in dismay, his cloak starting to slip down a bare shoulder.

Merry nodded, glancing down at his feet. "Mother wants to be getting back, and my father can't stay away that long, either."

"Well, hold on then, just let me get dressed, and wake up Sam, and we'll both be out in no time."

Merry nodded again, saying no more, and turning, quickly left down the hall, with a concerned Frodo watching him leave.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

Frodo, with Sam dutifully following, quickly met up with the Brandybucks and their entourage, preparing to leave in the snowdrift covered front courtyard. The snow was continuing to fall, but at a steady pace, and visibility was sufficient. There were, of course, no guaranties that these conditions would continue. Pippin and his father were there as well, and Pippin was standing quite close to Merry, a downcast look on his face.

"Frodo," called out Saradoc, upon seeing them arrive. "I wonder if I might have a word with you, lad." He beckoned to Frodo, and Frodo went to where the older hobbit was standing, near the ponies, stamping and huffing in the frosty air.

Paladin was there as well, with a rather worried look on his face. "I do wish you'd stay a bit longer, Sara," he was muttering as Frodo walked up. "There's really no need to be off in all of this," he added, waving one hand out, as the other was quite unconsciously stroking the ponies' noses in a soothing manner.

"I know," Saradoc sighed, shaking his head, "But Esme is in a proper fuss, and if we stay any longer, well, you know, Pal. I don't know what it is about this place that gets her back up so, but that's how it is."

"Aye, she's always been like that," Paladin agreed reluctantly. "Gets her mind made up, and there's no budging her. But you take care, now, and try to get her to stop at that inn I was telling you about."

Saradoc nodded, and then turned to Frodo, who had been silently standing by during this exchange. "Frodo," he said seriously, laying a hand on his shoulder. "Do try to come by, for Merry's sake. I don't want him to, well, I'd prefer that he follow your example rather than any of the others Esme tries to stick him with. Somehow, you've turned out all right, Frodo, although I suppose you can thank Bilbo for that far more than us. No," he continued, as Frodo shook his head. "You know I'm right. And you needn't come alone, no matter what she says."

"I know, Saradoc, and I thank you for that," Frodo answered firmly, "but I'd rather not put myself, and especially Sam, in that situation. But of course, Merry is very welcome at Bag End whenever he wishes. As are you," he added, with the beginnings of a sly grin. "Should Brandy Hall become occasionally a little… stuffy, shall we say?"

Saradoc gave out an unexpected snort of laughter at Frodo's comment, and clapped Frodo on the shoulder, as Paladin looked on with a grin. "Well said, lad," he chuckled. "You do have a point, come to think of it. And one I won't be forgetting, I promise you."

In the meanwhile, Merry was standing silently next to a clearly unhappy Pippin, his face withdrawn and gazing downward. It wasn't until his mother started to approach the carriages that were being secured to the stout ponies, that he turned to Pippin and silently gave him a fierce hug. He then turned to Sam, who had been standing quietly by the side wall, and reached out his arms to give him a hug as well. Sam, slightly startled by the gesture, returned it almost hesitantly just as Esme walked past them.

"Merry," came a distinctly sharp reprimand. "Kindly watch yourself." And she walked past without looking back.

"Watch what?" came Merry's instantaneous curt retort, as he turned, still in Sam's diffident embrace. His hand slipped down, and firmly caught hold of Sam's.

Esme whirled around at that, sharp circles of red on her cheeks, and her mouth drawn down with disapproval. "We've already discussed this, Meriadoc."

"I've nothing to say to you regarding your choice of friends," Merry replied abruptly, his brows narrowing. "I'd thank you to extend me the same courtesy."

"Merry, it's all right," came Sam's nearly inaudible reassurance, but Esme turned on him furiously.

"I believe you'd be forgetting that Master Brandybuck is your superior, hobbit," she snapped at that, glaring furiously at Sam. "Kindly keep that fact in mind. You'd better not be making as free with the rest of hobbit gentry as you do your master."

Merry's face flamed instantly at her cutting words. "Sam was speaking to me, not you, I believe," he bit off the words angrily. "And I'd prefer my friends to address me by my name."

"Oh, pardon me," Esme turned again, and walked away, her face suddenly cold and disdainful. "I hadn't realized that you had resorted to the help. In the carriage, Meriadoc, we are leaving now."

Merry wordlessly turned back to Sam, his face now pale with emotion. "Don't you worry none," Sam murmured to him, his heart suddenly wrung with pity for the future Master of Brandy Hall. He gave Merry's hand a slight squeeze before releasing it and stepping back. "I'd be right glad to see you again, any time."

Merry blinked, and nodded slightly, and then turned once more to Pippin.

"Don't go," Pippin whispered, anguish clear on his face, reaching a hand out toward Merry's sleeve.

But Merry bowed his head, and then lifted it with a resolute expression and a determined lift of his chin. "I must," he replied briefly. "But I'll be seeing both of you soon."

He turned abruptly then, and walked over to where Frodo stood next to his father. Frodo, who had not heard the exchange between Merry and his mother, gave him a concerned look, startled by the naked emotions on Merry's face. But Merry said nothing, and encircled his cousin in his arms, closing his eyes and holding on desperately. Frodo held him tightly as well, and stroking his back lovingly, murmured something into Merry's ear for him alone to hear. Saradoc watched for a moment, both sadness and sympathy suddenly evident in his expression, but then he laid a gentle hand on Merry's shoulder.

"We must go, son," he said firmly, and the carriages and ponies were soon gone, heading through the misting snow back to Buckland.

Paladin had turned back into the Great Smials when Frodo, worry and dismay clear on his face, found Pippin and Sam standing together against the rough brick wall of the courtyard. Before he could ask though, Pippin gave a ragged gulp, and hands in his pockets and head down, started to stumble away out into the snowy fields, away from the smial, away from the both of them. Frodo, now doubly concerned, glanced over to Sam who, as if coming to a decision, squared his shoulders and with a troubled look at Frodo, nodded toward Pippin's disappearing figure. "We'd best stay with him," he murmured, and that was enough for Frodo. Together, they followed the distraught teen.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

It was to the winepress, as Frodo had suspected, that Pippin headed. But the snow had drifted up quite deeply around the door during the last day, and Frodo and Sam found Pippin futilely kicking it away, and unsuccessfully tugging at the stout wooden door, when they caught up with him. "Here, Pip," Frodo said softly, coming up behind his young cousin, "let us give you a hand with that."

Pippin said nothing, but glared at the immobile door, handle in his hand, as if it were alone responsible for all that was wrong, but Sam, quietly walking up behind Frodo, could see the tracks of tears glistening on the young hobbit's cheeks. He bent down, without comment, and began to scoop away the snow piled about the door with his hands. It did not take long to free the door, and Pippin finally flung it open.

The shed was icy cold, and it seemed forever to Sam before Pippin finally located a tinderbox, and with shaking hands, lit the remnants of kindling that had been left from the last time they had been here, a couple of days ago. Sam busied himself by looking about the shed for more wood, and finally discovering a stack of relatively dry logs, concerned himself with getting the fire properly started. Frodo, however, was watching Pippin, and once Pippin had replaced the tinderbox, silently held out his arms to him. With a gasping sob, Pippin was in them, and the two hobbits sank to the ground before the fire, Pippin now with his arms tightly around Frodo and sobbing into his weskit, and Frodo, his face drawn with concern, gently stoking Pippin's back, as he had earlier stroked Merry's, and rocking him slightly to comfort him. Sam sat down over to the side of the other two, and wordlessly stared into the flames.

Eventually, though, Pippin's sobs settled down into the occasional hiccup, and a rather runny nose. Frodo, familiar with the procedure, silently produced a handkerchief, and Pippin gave a hearty blow and settled back, still well wrapped in Frodo's arms. "And now," Frodo said softly, nonchalantly stuffing the cloth back into his pocket. "What has produced all this? Something to do with Merry, I suspect, from the farewell he gave me."

"Aunt Esme," Pippin's reply was shaky, and the threat of renewed tears was strong in his voice.

"Well, she's usually in a bit of a mood by the end of a visit here," Frodo prodded gently, still continuing to stroke Pippin's back. "What set her off this time?"

"It was all my doin'," came unexpectedly from Sam, who was continuing to stare into the flames at their side. "I didn't think, I wasn't watchin' myself as I should."

"Sam!" came an indignant response from Pippin, as he twisted himself without warning out of Frodo's arms, and sitting up straight, gave Sam a fierce glare. Startled, Frodo turned toward him too, in time to see a slow flush creep across Sam's face. "Well, if that just isn't, isn't the most…" Pippin spluttered, words clearly failing him. "How can you possibly think any of that was your fault?"

Sam did not look at either of them, but shrugged hesitantly. "Titles mean that much to her," he stated softly. "There's no need for me t'be rilin' her up, just afore they go. I never meant it, it just slipped out, seemingly."

"Hah." Pippin continued to glare at Sam. "Too good for her brother and his family, that one, let alone anyone else. She was set on finding some fault, Sam. She always is when she goes. Gives her an excuse to be condescending, and graciously forgive us."

"But I shouldn't ha'given her that excuse," Sam glanced guiltily toward Pippin finally, "because she used it to go after Merry. I'd not be mindin' if it'd just been me."

"Well, I certainly would have," Frodo's mouth was rather grim as he started piecing together what had happened. "What was Sam's great crime, anyway, Pip?"

"Oh, he just let Merry give him a good-bye hug," Pippin turned to Frodo, still indignant. "And then, let's not forget that he dared call Merry by name. That one really set her off, it did."

"Ah," sighed Frodo, understandingly. Scooting slightly closer to Sam, he reached out his hand, and Sam's was immediately clasped up closely in it. "You don't understand, Sam," he said gently. "It wasn't you at all. Usually it's either Pippin or myself, you know. It's the traditional farewell from Aunt Esme."

Pippin had been staring at the fire through Frodo's explanation, his brow still knit, but turned to Frodo after his comment, and asked him plaintively, "How can Merry stand it, Frodo? I wish he could come and live with us. It's just not right that he has to put up with that. I just wish I could do something."

But Frodo shook his head, and gently hugged Pippin with the hand that was not in Sam's. "He can bear it, Pippin," his voice trailed off oddly and both Pippin and Sam turned to look at him. "Once it was me," he continued softly, gazing at the flames unseeingly. "I never thought I could stand it, either. But I did, for Merry's sake. I didn't leave, I didn't throw myself in the river, I stayed and put up with it, because of Merry. And now Merry puts up with it. Because of you, Pip." The last words were so soft that Sam hardly heard them, but Pippin was staring at Frodo, his face impossibly young, and yearning.

"He does?" he whispered, his green eyes wide.

"Of course he does," Frodo replied quietly but firmly, turning to him. "You give him someone to be brave for. And that's very important, you know."

Pippin settled thoughtfully against Frodo and said no more, and Sam sat next to them, Frodo's hand still warm around his, and considered the mysteries of family.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

It was the prospect of elevensies that finally drove them from the by-now cozy shed, both Frodo and Sam having missed both breakfasts. But as they walked through the softly swirling snow on their way back to the smial, Sam mentioned that he ought to eat in the servant's hall, and see if he could find his sisters. Frodo nodded rather absently, his mind still on Merry, and he and Pippin entered through the Great Smial's grand front door, on their way to the front room where the Took family's repast was already spread out.

Sam had another errand in mind first, though. He hated to disturb the Took estate gardeners on Yule Day itself, but they had especially assured him the day before that he was to pay the day no mind, and find them whenever he was ready.

So it was that Sam entered the large, warm servant's hall with a long parcel, well wrapped in sacking and loosely tied up with twine. Looking about, he saw Daisy and May at the far end of the hall, tucked in a corner, and having a rather animated conversation. It wasn't until he was nearly up to them that they both glanced over at him, and the conversation came to an abrupt halt. Daisy had far more color in her cheeks than normal, and she quickly stood up as Sam approached. "Oh, Sam, you'd not be havin' a thing to eat," she exclaimed, in a curiously hurried voice. "And no more have we. I'll fetch us all a bite." And she quickly left.

Sam, pulling up a chair, sat down with the odd feeling that there was something happening here, of which he was quite ignorant. The look May was giving him was indecipherable, but seemed to be demanding a response nonetheless. "Well," he said as he sat there, realizing that statement to be wholly inadequate, but knowing that it would prompt May into some sort of response, and knowing his sister, more than likely an irritable one.

He was correct. "Well, yourself, Samwise Gamgee," May snapped at him. "Is that all you'd have to be sayin'?"

Sam sighed, and carefully laid his bundle down next to the chair. For the life of him, he'd never been able to figure lasses out. "Tell me, May," he prompted patiently. "There's summat up, but what it is, I'd have no idea."

May narrowed her eyes at that. "Well, if you'd look about a bit from time to time instead of staring at a certain someone as if he were all the moon and stars wrapped up together, you'd might notice that there's more goin' on about this place." Sam stared at her, dumbfounded at that remark, but May glanced over to Daisy, who was returning with a laden dish on one hand and a teapot in the other.

Plopping the plate into Sam's lap, and the pot on a small table next to him, she exclaimed hastily, "Oh, the cups, I'll just be going for them," and was gone before Sam or May could utter a word.

"I'm not going to be doin' it for her," May muttered, more to herself than Sam, "no matter how many trips she makes." And to Sam's further mystification, she crossed her arms over her chest and stared stonily at Daisy, who gave her a quick imploring look as she retuned with her hands full of teacups and a honey pot.

"I believe there's summat you'd have to be tellin' Sam about." May's voice was stern, and Daisy sank into her seat looking, to Sam's amazement, distinctly nervous.

"Yes, well, I mean to be sayin', that is," Daisy was obviously floundering now, and Sam watched her with astonishment, but also with the most peculiar notions starting to go through his mind. "You know that summer, a couple of years back, when I tried to talk some sense into you, Sam?" Daisy was now staring fixedly at her hands, clasped tightly in her lap, and quite unmistakably blushing. "Well, I was dead wrong. And you were right. It is worth it all, and there's no point to being sensible about such matters, no ways."

Quite suddenly, the picture of Daisy entering the Great Hall the other night in Pearl's company, and the expression that had been on his sister's face, flashed into Sam's mind, and he blurted out, "Pearl Took? You? And Pearl Took?"

Daisy's face became almost impossibly bright at Sam's guess, and the soft grunt he heard from May decidedly confirmed it. "Tell 'im," came May's voice, with a distinctly uncompromising tone to it, as Sam stared dumbfounded at his oldest sister, who was by now unconsciously twisting tightly at a corner of her skirt, and staring furiously at the teapot on the table next to them. A fleeting thought ran through his mind that he had never really seen Daisy nervous or apprehensive about what he might think, but that was exactly what he saw before him now. It was that, that made Sam's feelings for his sister suddenly lurch in sympathy, knowing all too well how it felt to face the disdain of others for the crime of following one's heart, rather than one's head.

"Tell me about it, Daisy," he said, in a soft voice, as May gave an unreadable sigh next to him. Daisy quickly shot him a grateful sideways glance, and her hands began to calm themselves.

" 'Twas when she was stayin' at Bag End," she replied in a low voice. "I can never tell you how, for I'd not know myself. And I wasn't even a'that certain when we came here. But now, we'd both be sure of it." She stopped for a moment and her face was suddenly wistful. "But I don't know how we'll manage it," she added sadly. "Pearl has no place of her own, and no more do I. An' her getting married is important to her family. As for me, there's Da. But I do know," she looked quickly up at both her brother and sister with an almost fierce glint in her eyes, "that it's real. For both of us."

"Then the way will come," Sam said after a moment's silence, with a firm authority in his voice. "And whatever I can do for you Daisy, dear, I will." Gently, he reached over and took up her hand in his. "And I'm that happy for you both, love," he smiled suddenly at her, "for there's nothing more glorious than that."

The tension vanished from Daisy's face as she returned his smile thankfully. "Aye, 'tis at that," she agreed happily.

"Like as not," May pointed out rather grumpily beside the two of them. "But fine words alone will naught be gettin' you what you want. Luckily for the pair o'ye, there's one practical Gamgee about."

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

The benches were beginning to be pushed aside in preparation for the afternoon dancing when Frodo and Pippin quietly entered the hall. But Pippin's appearance called for much in the way of merry greetings and hearty cheers, for the young Took heir was a great favorite with all in the hall. Frodo quietly made his way to where Sam stood near May, Daisy having earlier disappeared once more. May had been searching for a sign of the young Hoarfoot, since she had begun to enjoy his company greatly, but as of yet, there had been no sight of him.

Frodo didn't need to say a word though, as Sam sensed him near, and turned suddenly about with a warm smile on his face and Frodo's name on his lips. May couldn't help but notice the entirely open manner in which Frodo reached out and caught up Sam's hand in his own, and the look of quiet happiness that lit her brother's face. With a quick glance back at May, and Sam's words, "Don't forget, May, dear, it's under my chair," the pair were gone, rescuing Pippin from his admirers on the way out.

As they left the hall though, they passed by the great door to the kitchen courtyard that generally stood open during the day, as the serving hobbits came and went on their errands and chores. There wasn't much traffic today however, for on Yule, only the most essential of tasks were done, and Frodo stopped short before the doorway. "Look," he pointed outdoors to the other two.

They stopped as well, and stared out, for truly it was a lovely sight. The snow had come to a halt, and within the last hour or so, the clouds had all been brushed away, and the afternoon sun shone in a brilliantly blue sky. "Let's go out," Frodo smiled with delight. "We've been shut up in here entirely too long."

With a pleased laugh, Pippin grabbed up some well-worn old jackets that hung nearby for the convenience of folk as they came and went. "No one will be needing these today. Let's not bother to go back for our own coats." That was agreeable to the other two, and in a moment, they were out.

It was a rare and glorious afternoon. After so many days of dim light and snowing mist, the sun was nearly blinding in its intensity, and reflected in sparkling rays off of the softly rounded drifts of fresh unspoiled snow. Walking out into it with glee, Pippin laughed at the crunch of it under his feet, and began to run, until he stepped knee-deep into a particularly high drift, and fell forward with a muffled thump.

Frodo, following behind at a slightly more sedate pace, chuckled at that. "Pip, you silly goose," he said fondly, "do you have any idea where you're going?"

"No," Pippin declared joyfully, jumping up and spinning himself around, deliberately allowing himself to fall back in a thick drift, "and it really doesn't matter."

"Snowbirds," Frodo heard Sam's voice murmur behind him, and he looked over his shoulder with a grin.

"Snow birds, Sam?" he asked, curious. He glanced up in the sky, but there was no sign of any type of bird in all that bright blue. Behind him, he could hear Sam's chuckle.

"Snowbirds. You'd not know about them?" Sam looked at the two gentle hobbits in amusement, as Pippin gave his head a mystified shake as well. "Well, now. Think of that," they heard him mutter, as he passed by both of them. They had stopped in a wide snowy field, past the courtyards, but Sam saw what he needed not far ahead, and made his way to it.

It was a stump, slightly higher than the surrounding snow, and Sam climbed up and stood on the top of it, facing Frodo and Pippin. "Snowbirds," he repeated, rather officially, and then to their amazement, let himself fall flat back into the snow, moving his arms up and down as he did so. Frodo and Pippin walked over as Sam lay placidly there waiting for them. Lifting his arms in the air, he explained, "It comes out better if you don't get up on your own."

Frodo laughed, and caught hold of one of Sam's arms, and Pippin, the grin on his face showing he understood as well, grabbed the other. With a nod of his head to Pippin, Frodo declared, "Now!" and with a sharp tug, Sam was brought directly to his feet.

Turning around carefully, Sam stared proudly at the impression he had left in the snow, the movement of his arms having created the effect of wings. "Now that," he declared, with a pleased nod, "would be a snowbird."

Of course, nothing must do, but Pippin had to try it next. Laughing, they examined the impression that he left, but he was still too light for it to show up that well. "Havin' a bit of weight is a good thing for snowbirding," Sam laughed sympathetically at Pippin's crestfallen expression.

But then Pippin glanced back up with a suddenly cheerful look. "Perhaps I should hold onto a rock the next time," he grinned. "Although it might be a little difficult to find one under this…" his voice trailed off as he surveyed the snow-covered fields. "But I think I remember some over there," and he was off, wading determinedly through the knee-deep drifts.

Frodo watched him go with a warm smile, and then turned to Sam. "Well, I know I have more weight than Pip," he chuckled, "so let's see how well I can do." Leaping atop the stump, he turned so that his back was facing a section of unspoiled snow. Then, with his arms outstretched, and his eyes locked on Sam's, he let himself fall trustingly backwards. But it seemed to Sam that he floated more than fell, a graceful falling with no awkwardness or uncertainty to it whatsoever, confident and secure in the knowledge that he would be held, and not hurt, by the snow below him. Indeed, Sam would not have been surprised to find that Frodo had left no impression at all, so light had appeared his fall.

He walked to where Frodo lay laughing, with his arms stretched up, and grasping them both in his own, gave a pull and suddenly Frodo was in his arms, snow-flecked dark curls, cheeks glowing from the frosty air, and merry eyes burning as bright as the blue sky above them. It was impossible not to tighten his grasp, not to lean slightly forward to reach that lovely mouth with his own, not to let his body lean into the other, feeling the length of it fit against his with a sweet willing familiarity. But Frodo answered his kiss with a pleased hum deep in his throat, a firm arm around Sam's waist, and his mouth eagerly opened to Sam's. And then, it mattered not to Sam where they stood, or who saw, or what they might think, for the happiness that surged through his heart was worth any price. It wasn't until the sound of footsteps methodically plodding through the snow was heard to approach them, that they broke reluctantly apart, and turned to find Pippin, hands in his pockets, standing near them.

There was an odd expression on Pippin's face, almost as if he had found some new species of wildlife, and was trying to puzzle out exactly what it was. "Pip," exclaimed Frodo, a little self-consciously, as he brushed the snow off of the back of his trousers, drawing slightly away from Sam. "You're too young for this."

"I won't always be," Pippin pointed out, with the most reasonable tone in the world in his voice.

Frodo gave him a sharp look then. "No," he answered slowly, "I suppose not." Reaching up to his hair, he brushed the snow out of his curls thoughtfully. "Well, I know I wouldn't mind some tea," he changed the topic briskly, and Pippin laughed.

"Don't worry, Frodo," he assured him cheerfully. "I won't try anything on Merry quite yet." And he was off, striding through the deep snow with a confident stride.

"I'm sure Merry will find that a relief," Frodo muttered to Sam wryly, as they followed the teen. Sam chuckled, but couldn't help a quick glance back at where Frodo had fallen. The light wind was picking up a bit, as the afternoon had begun to chill, and a quick gust dusted the snow across the elusive impression Frodo's body had made. It was nearly gone, as if it had never been.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

"You and Sam will both be there, right?" had been Pippin's parting words, as they had separated to ready themselves for the Yule dinner. He had been nearly out of sight before he called back, "Oh, and Sam! Your sisters too, of course. Just family, you know."

Sam had turned to Frodo in puzzlement as he shut the door of their room on the retreating figure of Pippin. "Yule night is just for family here," Frodo explained with a fond smile, as he took off his jacket and began to rummage through his pack for a last clean shirt. "The guests and others all gather in groups all about the place, but the family has dinner together in Uncle Paladin's study. And since I'm family, of course you are as well. And your sisters, so you'd best let them know."

Sam gave a guilty start at that, realizing that one sister at least was perhaps more family than Frodo knew, but held his tongue on that score. That wasn't the type of news to be casually mentioning right before they joined the rest of the family, and he also thought it best to wait and see how the lasses handled it. Leaving Frodo to change, he set off to his sisters' room to inform them of the plans for the evening. He was already wearing his best, anyway.

The cozy wood-paneled room, although large enough, was quite a contrast to the vast Great Hall, more welcoming than imposing. Sam recognized most of the hobbits gathered there, as being Pippin's direct family, but Frodo also made sure that he was introduced to the few others that were unknown to him, such as Everard Banks, Eglantine Took's brother, and his family, and Lilly Grubb, Paladin's widowed sister, and her three sons. A cold buffet had been spread out that afternoon, to allow the cooking staff the evening to themselves, but there was more than ample food for the hobbits gathered comfortably before the fire. There was, in addition, an abundant supply of both beer and wine, as well as tea, and in no time at all, Sam was comfortably seated next to Frodo on a well-cushioned bench, a heaped plate next to each on small tables at either end, and a very fine bottle of Old Winyards to be shared between the two of them. Pippin had spread himself out, with more than one plate, on the rug in front of them, and was contently using Frodo's legs as a backrest.

Sam glanced over to the corner of the room next to the fire, where both of his sisters, as well as Pearl, were engrossed in a rather intense conversation. He was undeniably curious, but seeing as May was involved, he knew he'd be hearing the result of it soon enough. The two younger Grubb lads were seated in front of the fire, endeavoring to roast and peel chestnuts nearly simultaneously, without scorching their fingers, and Eglantine and Lilly were seated across the room in comfortable chairs, Paladin contently sandwiched in between, and carrying on an amused debate as to whether it was easier to raise lasses or lads.

Frodo, who had just polished off a large roll piled rather high with ham, to Sam's quiet delight, looked about after taking a sip of his wine, and mentioned to Pippin, "Don't tell me we managed to escape the Bracegirdle. He must be plaguing some other unfortunate group."

"Oh, no," Pippin shook his head and popped another pickled mushroom into his mouth. "He's gone. I heard there was hearty cheering as he left."

"Well, that's good news," Frodo said thankfully. "I certainly would rather see him a day ahead of us on the road, so we don't have to share an inn with him again. Pity about the way he treats that poor servant of his, though."

"And that's why Dad wouldn't sell him any ponies," Pippin reminded his cousin, wiping a piece of bread energetically about on his plate. "But he said the Bracegirdle owns all the Hoarfoot family land, and makes sure they're never able to buy it themselves. There's no other work to be had in those parts, either. Dad told me, though, that Bracegirdle only likes young hobbits to wait on him, so he'll be looking for a new one soon, I expect. Older hobbits probably aren't as easy to keep in line."

As Pippin casually spoke, however, Frodo suddenly felt Sam stiffen at his side, and glanced curiously over to him. With concern, he noticed that Sam's expression was closed off and withdrawn. But before he could say anything, Everard Banks' youngest daughter had dragged the two younger Grubb lads in front of him and were all staring intently at Frodo. "He's the one," she pointed out, with the air of showing off a prize cabbage. "He knew Bilbo Baggins."

Distracted from Sam, Frodo gave a chuckle as the three young hobbits stared solemnly at him. Across the room, Lilly Grubb called out with a laugh, "Forgive the little ones, Frodo. They think that Bilbo was some sort of mythical creature."

"Why of course he wasn't," Frodo replied with a warm smile at the trio. "He was a Baggins, just like me, except much more brave and famous, of course."

"Did you really know him, sir?" asked the oldest Grubb lad, joining his brothers, and looking at Frodo with wonder.

"First off, it's Frodo, you know, not sir. Don't make me feel like your old grandfather, now," Frodo good-naturedly chided them. "And of course I knew him. He was my cousin, actually, but I called him my uncle. And he adopted me to live with him at Bag End. But my friend, Sam, here, and his sisters, why, they knew him longer than I did, really."

Giving Sam a quick glance, he was glad to see that Sam had shaken off his odd mood, whatever the cause of it had been, and now was affably smiling at the youngsters as well. Sam started a bit at Frodo's mention of himself, but then chuckled and softly added, "Aye, that I did. Since I was a fauntling. I was his gardener, as was my da afore me."

"Bilbo Baggins' gardener!" breathed one of the lads in awe. "Oh, you're so lucky! Did you ever see his treasure? Did dwarves ever come to visit him?"

Frodo gave Sam an amused side-glance. "Do you ever remember seeing dwarves about the place, Sam? The occasional wizard perhaps, but I never remember seeing a dwarf."

"Aye, to be sure," Sam agreed, with an air of matter-of-factness. "No dwarves. Just a wizard."

Paladin had been watching this exchange from across the room with unconcealed delight. "Face it, Frodo," he called over to him, "you are also the official heir of all of Bilbo's stories. And you have a new generation here to enlighten."

Pippin, seated to the side of the three young hobbits, laughed at the thought. "Oh, you don't want to hear tales of boring old Bilbo," he teased them affectionately. "They're just all full of nonsense like dragons and elves and trolls and no end of other dreary things. Who can believe any of all that?"

His youngest niece gave him a severe look. "Uncle Pip," she said sternly. "If Uncle Frodo says it's true, why, so it is." She plunked herself on the rug directly in front of Frodo, obviously settling in for the evening, as her cousins meekly made themselves comfortable about her.

"Well," Frodo gave her an amused glance, "I believe I've received my orders. But Sam and Pip must be sure to tell me anything I forget, for they've heard these stories as often as I." And with another sip of his wine, he began.

Sam listened to Frodo's voice as it began to paint pictures of things fair and foul, times long since past, and bravery and courage. Dreamily, he let the words wind about him, and unleash his imagination. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that Pearl's mother had joined the conversation that Pearl was having with his sisters, but at the moment, he could spare no thought for anything but the tales Frodo was weaving. Not for the first time, he wondered if he and Frodo would ever set off on the path that Bilbo had taken, would ever find themselves in those strange and wonderful lands. Part of him was terrified by the thought, but there was another part of his heart that whispered in his dreams, of enchantment and beauty far from the Shire.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

It was very late as Frodo and Sam finally walked through the corridors of the Great Smial. The candles in their sconces along the walls were guttering low, and indeed, many of them had already gone out. They walked closely together, Frodo's arm over Sam's shoulders, and Sam's arm around Frodo's waist. It had been a long evening, but a merry one, and Sam was in no mind for sleep. Causing them both to stop before the door of the bathroom, not far from their room, which he remembered from the afternoon before, he turned to Frodo, his eyes dark in the candlelight. "Are you that sleepy yet, Frodo-love?" he murmured huskily, thoughts of their all too hasty bath of the day before in his mind.

But Frodo smiled slowly, reading Sam's thoughts, and whispered, "Not here, Sam. Let me show you." Taking Sam by the hand then, he drew him past their room, further and further into the maze that was the Great Smials, until at last they were before an ancient wooden door, "This is the family bath," Frodo turned to Sam, speaking softly, "but I don't think they'd mind. They all seemed to be heading to bed when we left, even Pippin. I think we'll be quite safe." And he pushed open the door.

The only light in the room came from a series of small windows high up along one wall. It was from them that the frosty glint of moonlight shone into the room, for the evening had remained clear and the light of the pale sickle of the new moon glinted on the surface of dark water in the middle of the room. Frodo took the candle from a sconce in the passageway, and lit two torches that were set against the wall on either side of the door. The room became dimly lit, and Sam could see a large wooden tub sunken well into the ground in the center of the room, with several rows of pale timeworn flagstones ringed about it. Frodo picked out one of the torches from the iron bands that held it to the wall, and walked over to a fireplace that was set in against the windowed wall. He lit the logs, and Sam noticed that there was a large caldron hanging from a hook above the fire.

"Look, Sam," Frodo replaced the torch, and took up Sam's hand. "The water automatically fills from a spring deep in the hillside. It's sweet, but cold. So when the water in the caldron is heated, one just has to tip it out, and it runs along that sluice and heats up the water in the tub."

"Well, now," Sam exclaimed in wonder, examining the tub. "If these Tooks ain't that clever. I surely would love to see this in a better light."

"Uncle Paladin would love to show it to you, then," Frodo laughed softly, "as well as give you the life story of every Took involved. But as for me, I've always loved the light in here. Moonlight and candlelight both. Nothing could be lovelier."

Sam smiled and refrained from the obvious comparison, for it was moonlight, candlelight, and the face before him that he thought was the loveliest. But Frodo had already turned, and was clearing the stacked towels from a small wooden bench to the side of the room. He placed them on a wooden tray that also held a couple of bars of a fragrant soap, making room for the both of them. "Have a seat, Sam," he looked up at Sam with a smile. "We'll have to wait for the water to warm. Trust me, you don't want to be in that water yet."

Sam sank down on the bench beside him and Frodo picked up one of his hands and, clasping it tightly in his own, studied the both of them, fingers entwined. "What was it at dinner tonight that bothered you?" he asked softly, after a few moments of companionable silence. "It was something to do with Bracegirdle and Lar, wasn't it?"

"Aye," said Sam reluctantly, feeling a curious hesitancy in continuing this particular line of conversation.

Frodo was silent for a moment, still staring at their hands, and then added softly, "Bracegirdle obviously uses Lar badly, but is it more than that?"

"Aye," Sam repeated shortly.

"Did he tell you, Sam?" Frodo turned to him then, his expression unreadable in the faint light. "Why?"

Sam said nothing for several minutes. Then, staring straight ahead, he murmured, "He thought the way o'it would be the same for me."

"Oh, Sam," Frodo replied sadly. Raising Sam's hand up to his lips, he kissed it tenderly. "I just wish…" he hesitated.

"So do I," Sam replied, with a rather thick voice. "But there's nothing for it, Frodo. 'Tis the way it is in this world, and it can't be changed none."

"But there ought to be, Sam," Frodo said in denial. "There ought to be something I could do."

"For Lar?" Sam turned to him then. "An' what could you or I do? That villain owns his family's land. They've nowhere else to go. He knew what working for Bracegirdle would mean. His family would have needed the income. 'Twas his choice, and he made the best one he could. 'Tis only time as would be helpin' him now."

"And you, Sam?" Frodo's voice was gentle and he clasped Sam's hand in both of his.

"Only time will change that, likewise," Sam gave him a faint smile. "Don't you ever think that I don't believe it's worth it all, Frodo." Raising his other hand, he brought it to the side of Frodo's face, and drawing it close to his own, gave him a tender but lingering kiss. "Ah, me dear," he whispered as they drew apart. "There's nothing I wouldn't give for you."

"Sam, my Sam," Frodo's voice was husky as he ran a hand up Sam's cheek, cradling it tenderly. "There was never any treasure such as you. As long as you're with me, there'll never be anything I could want for."

"Oh, aye, I'll be with you," Sam found his mouth again. Passionately, he thrust his tongue into Frodo's willing mouth, searching and caressing, the joining filling him with heat, until his whole body felt enflamed and engorged. Frodo's hands had found their way beneath his shirt, and were stroking up his back, pressing him even more tightly.

Dimly though, he knew he had to stop now, or he would not last long. And that was something he definitely planned on tonight. So, with a gasp, he drew apart from Frodo, asking a little breathlessly, "Would that water be hot enough now, d'you think?"

Frodo gave a quick laugh, and stood up. Walking over to the caldron, he peered in, and glanced over his shoulder with a grin. "I believe it's steaming," he noted mildly.

"Aye, and it's not all that is," Sam muttered under his breath, as he watched Frodo carefully tip the hot water into the sluice. It ran into the cold pool with a great hiss, and a rush of vapor. When the steam had cleared, Frodo cautiously stuck a hand in, and gave Sam a satisfied nod. "Perfect," he declared.

Sam had no doubt at all on that score. Perfect, indeed, and he had had about enough of waiting. With a few quick movements, his clothing was off, and he was at Frodo's side. "Ah, Sam," Frodo said in a low voice, with one hand quickly around Sam's waist, and another that had unerringly found an extremely sensitive part of Sam's anatomy. "Have I told you enough how happy you make me?"

"Aye, but don't stop," Sam murmured, raising his hands to the buttons on Frodo's shirt. "Just let me, oh! Frodo-love, how can I when you…"

Frodo laughed, but let Sam finish the shirt, letting go of Sam just long enough to let the shirt slip off his shoulders. The trousers took a little longer to remove, since Sam found it very difficult to address the fastenings only, but at last Frodo was also bare before him.

"Mmm, chilly, don't you think?" Frodo finally murmured, with a throaty chuckle, after withdrawing his mouth from Sam's once more. "The water, you know."

"Right," Sam agreed absentmindedly, his hands running down Frodo's smooth, irresistibly rounded backside. But then his glance happened to light on the tray beside the bench, and suddenly water became a very good idea.

Frodo had turned from Sam and stepped into the tub. As was the custom, there was a ledge on which to sit, water at chest-level, around the tub, and it was on this that Frodo stood. Sam, who had quickly snatched up the tray beside the bench while Frodo's back was turned, placed it beside the edge of the tub and then stepped onto the ledge beside Frodo. The water was hot, but not uncomfortably so, and the fire had begun to take the chill out of the room. With a soft grunt of pleasure, Frodo lowered himself down into the water and was now seated on the ledge, his legs floating out in the water before him, sitting forward just enough to submerge his shoulders and arms. His eyes had closed, and Sam, kneeling on the ledge beside him, marveled at the play of candlelight, firelight, and the faint moonlight, all bathing those lovely pale features in an ethereal glow. Almost, he seemed too lovely to touch, a thing of beauty to only gaze upon and wonder at, until he opened his eyes again, and his direct gaze into Sam's eyes broke the enchantment that had fallen on him. Frodo was real, most decidedly real, and that smile on his face was telling Sam that his touch would be very much appreciated.

With a quick joyful laugh, Sam swung a leg over Frodo, and turned to face him, straddling him as he sat. Frodo hummed his approval, and with a lingering touch, drew his hands up Sam's sides and then down his back, ending by cupping Sam and bringing him closer. Sam gave an unsteady sigh then, and slowly brought himself down into Frodo's lap, nestling Frodo's erection against his own. Frodo leaned forward at that touch, drawing Sam closer, and began to kiss his way down Sam's chest, with particular attention at the most sensitive spots.

"Oh, oh, Frodo," Sam couldn't help but moan, throwing his head back, and concentrating on not moving too fast, but lingering over the delectable sensation, feeling himself beginning to pulse against Frodo. It was good, wonderfully good, but there was something else that Sam had in mind. He leaned back into Frodo then, his hand reaching blindly out, and grasped the bar of soap from the tray on the stones at the side of the tub.

"Ah, Sam," came Frodo's low laugh of approval, and he slid back up out of the water to sit at the edge of the tub, still between Sam's legs. Quickly, Sam brought the soap up to a lather, the heady aroma of roses beginning to permeate the air, and then lovingly drew his hand over Frodo, caressing and stroking, until Frodo gave a breathless laugh, and cried, "Sam! Hurry, love, or it'll be too late." Quickly, he pulled Sam up out of the water, and running his hand between Sam's legs, sought what he needed.

Sam sucked in a breath as Frodo's fingers entered him, and let it out in a passionate groan, rocking against Frodo's hand, urging him in, seeking more. Frodo leaned his forehead on Sam's shoulder and moaned his name fervently. And then, Sam drew himself up from Frodo's hand, and slowly sank down on Frodo himself, pushing down, pulling him into the water once more, with their eyes locked together in frank celebration of their mutual desire.

It was Sam, then, who set the pace, who rocked hard against Frodo, who, when nearly at the brink, slowed again, who made sure that Frodo's hands were against the side of the tub and not on him, so as to last longer, who seized every clue, every nuance of Frodo's response, and answered it skillfully and ardently. And all the while, he sighed and murmured, "Ah, Frodo, ah, me love, dearest heart," and Frodo let himself be carried beyond all thought and reason until at last he surged upward with a great cry and groan, and calling Sam's name out a final time, let his love flow into Sam.

It wasn't for several moments that he finally caught his breath and realized that Sam still awaited his attentions. With a breathless laugh, he tugged Sam off and upward, taking him in his eager mouth, and nearly instantly tasting Sam's fervent release. It was only then that they coiled down into each other, still stroking and kissing the other, hearts still racing, and with no words adequate to what they felt. Rocked by the water against Frodo, Sam felt the peace of the quiet room fill him and soothe him, and let Frodo's touch reveal once again to his heart Frodo's love for him. The moon had nearly set by the time they reached their room again, and nestled gratefully into each other in their bed.

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

The next morning, Sam went to his sisters' room to help them pack. At least, that was the stated reason, but he was also hoping to find out more about the conferences he had witnessed the night before. May let him into their room, where packing up was already in progress, with a most decided look of triumph on her face. Daisy, too, was looking quite cheerful, humming to herself as she randomly stuffed any garment that came within her reach into her bags. Sam took a quick look at both of his sisters and decided there was good news to be told.

"Now, then," he sat down on a chair, crossing his arms complacently. "The two of you would be havin' summat to be tellin' me."

Daisy laughed at Sam, and spun her way across the room to give a conspicuously patient May a hearty kiss on the cheek. "I'm comin' back here, and it's because of my dearest, cleverest sister."

Sam raised an eyebrow at Daisy's comment. That was not the opinion she usually expressed of her younger sister.

"Aye, now she calls me that," May noted, unable to totally keep the laughter out of her voice.

"How so, May?" Sam couldn't help the surprise in his question. "How did you manage that?"

"Well, Sam, you know the talents our sister has," May began, starting to look positively smug at this point, to Sam's eye. "One of them bein' as a healer. And apparently, that is one thing this vast smial is in need of. Oh, there's one about, seemingly, but she'd be as green as the grass in spring, and wouldn't it be just the thing for our Daisy to stay here for awhile, and take her in a bit?"

"Daisy!" Sam exclaimed, rising to give his sister a warm hug, "How wonderful for you!" Daisy blushed and smiled all in one, and without a word, disappeared into the bathroom to retrieve any belongings that might have been left there. But then a sudden thought made Sam pause and turn back to May, after Daisy had gone, with a slight look of apprehension. "And Da?" he asked carefully.

"Well," May sighed, her expression suddenly dropping a bit. "I expect that would mean me staying with him, or at least for a while."

"He could put up at Bag End for a bit, if you like," Sam offered, bravely hiding his fear that this offer would be accepted. "Frodo wouldn't mind, I know, and the place is plenty big enough."

May gave him a sharp glance, the hint of a grin peeking through. "Not too likely, Sam," she replied dryly. "Fortunately enough for you and Mr. Frodo." Picking up her spare skirt, she began to fold it absentmindedly. "Here I was in always such a hurry to leave, an' now I'd be the last Gamgee left in the old smial."

Sam stood up then, and walking up behind her, lay his hands gently on her shoulders. "You've had offers, I know, May," he said softly.

"Oh, offers, aye," there was a definite tinge of sadness in her words, and she stood still for a moment before turning around and facing him. "But I've seen Marigold, Sam, and I've seen Daisy, and maybe most of all, I've seen you, and the happiness on all your faces. And I'm not willing to settle for just gettin' out, not any more. I want what all of you have."

Sam studied her for a moment, and then a slow smile crept across his face. "There's a lucky hobbit out there," he murmured, "who will find you someday. An' somedays you'll drive him mad, and somedays he'll think you are the wonder of all the world, but he'll never be sorry that he fell in love with you." Leaning forward, he gave her a light kiss on the forehead, and drew back again, his smile deepening. "That's just summat I thought you should be knowin'."

May blinked at that, and raised a quick hand to her eyes. "Thankee', Sam, dear," she muttered, rather huskily, and quickly turned back to her packing as Daisy came back into the room, Sam's mysterious parcel in her hands.

"Why did you want us to hold this for you, Sam" she asked curiously, examined the twine and cloth wrapped parcel.

"It's my present for Frodo for my birthday," Sam answered, with an unusually quick blush. "If you'd not mind carrying it back, I'd be that grateful. It doesn't weigh that much, but if I carry it, he's likely to be curious. He won't ask aught if he thinks it'd be yours."

"Some rare plant, I'll warrant," May eyed the long narrow parcel, as she turned back again to face the other two, all traces of emotion once again hidden.

"Not a'that rare, 'tis but a rose," Sam protested with a smile.

"A rose? But Sam, you have Bag End fair surrounded in roses," Daisy exclaimed. "Why would you be wanting to bring another back?"

" 'Tis pure white," Sam explained softly, reaching out a hand to reverently touch the wrapping, "an' that color isna easy to find."

"That would be an odd color to want," Daisy persisted, watching Sam carefully. " 'Tis no color at all."

"Red and white together," Sam replied softly, as if reciting a lesson learned. "True love together forever." May gave a dramatic look upwards at that, and left the other two, to go straighten up the bedding, but Daisy gave her brother a warm smile.

"Sounds like something you've read, Samwise," she answered softly. "What else do the roses say?"

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

The weather had stayed clear, and the sky was once again an astounding blue as the four travelers left on the road from the Great Smials. Snow was still drifted against the edges of the road, but there was only enough of it left in the road to provide a satisfying crunch under their feet as they walked.

"May, dear, what ever happened with that nice young Lar?" asked Daisy as she walked in front with her sister, companionably arm in arm.

Sam's voice came from behind them. "He had t'be leaving, but I don't think he'll be stayin' in his position all that much longer. An' I believe he knows where you live, May."

"Sam!" May turned around to him in a scolding voice but with a smile on her face. "Evesdroppin' again."

Sam shrugged complacently, and let the two lasses walk ahead. He heard Frodo's chuckle, at his side, and let his arm find a willing Frodo's waist. Stopping for just a moment, he dared a quick kiss and was rewarded by Frodo's arm finding his waist as well when they set off again.

"Mmm," Sam chuckled quietly. "Let's hope for a crowded inn again tonight."

"Won't matter," Frodo gave him a tender smile, but with something about it that made Sam's breath catch. "I really don't think excuses are necessary any more. Let the lot of them think as they like."

 

&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;&amp;

 

That afternoon, on her pillow, Pearl Took found a carefully colored drawing of a blush rose. And neatly lettered underneath, above Daisy's name, the meaning. "If you love me, you will find it out." With a smile, she gazed out of the window, not even seeing the melting snow and warming earth, and held it tightly to her breast.


End file.
